Supernatural
by Holly Kasakabe
Summary: Holly and Serenity Kasakabe, accomplished twin sisters, were never afraid of the dark. What do they do when two brothers show them there's more to be afraid of than they've ever dreamed? Everyone knows that what goes up must come down. How high can the sisters fly before they crash and the Winchesters have to pick up the pieces? Rated M for language, violence, and mention of sex.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story contains two OCs (original characters). I don't own anything recognizable. I only lay claim to Holly and Serenity Kasakabe as creations of myself and my friend who co-wrote this story with me.**

**Full Summary: Holly and Serenity Kasakabe - astonishingly accomplished twin sisters. They've never been too afraid of the dark. What do they do when a couple of brothers show them there's more to fear than they'd ever dreamed? Add to that a father who mastered his disappearing act, a woman who won't stay gone, the voices that only Holly can hear, and a supernatural monster or two and it's no wonder that they're reaching their limit. Everyone knows that once you start hunting, you can't stop. Everything that goes up must come down, so how high can the sisters fly before they crash down, and the Winchesters have to pick up the pieces? Story spans the entirety of the first season and is titled after the Daughtry song of the same name.**

* * *

><p>When I was growing up, I'd never believed in the supernatural.<p>

Like most kids, I enjoyed it, and when I was a teen I loved horror movies and thriller novels. I loved to read about supernatural monsters, demons, and ghouls until the reading levels made it to a more murderous content and it ended up getting a bit too close to home. Serenity and I live with murder all the time, why make it more complicated by paranoia of a fear of the dark? Even if it's irrational it's harder to think with more adrenaline. Besides, why bring home what we can leave at the workplace? Neither of us like to talk about our jobs, out of a mutual respect for each other. We understand we both have unpleasant jobs, even though we wouldn't stop doing them, and we also respect that we're on opposite ends of the spectrum.

But that's all it ever was: fictions.

Still, we loved to read about it when we were younger. I was always content to read scary stories online or purchase horror novels at the bookstore and fill my instant queue, but Serenity went several steps further. She was never like a television occult freak, but she did get into it for a while. She kept grips with reality but she read up as much as she could when she got the opportunity, and she retained the knowledge she'd gathered even when her interest faded and her hobbies changed.

So now we have a pretty big problem on our hands: What do you do when everything that you believe to be false is suddenly true?

Because that whole "fiction at home, reality in career" was kind of a ruined phrase when our work suddenly became all about those horror novels and scary movies and supernatural folklores. I never considered myself easily gullible (no matter what Serenity says otherwise) but when I was given that proof, I was frightened, because how many times had I or someone I cared about been in danger because of my ignorance?

So, luckily for us, when we were introduced to this world, Serenity and I had help from a pair of brothers who taught us how to defend ourselves and others and helped us learn more about the world around us. And that became our life for quite a while. And while it's not exactly a walk in the park compared to our normal jobs, it is quite a change of pace to take a break from realism and instead deal with the supernatural.

* * *

><p>"Can we go yet?" My twin Serenity sighed, leaning against the hood of a crime scene. Crime scene, in this circumstance, refers to a car - a small blue convertible that really wasn't as cozy as it sounded.<p>

Serenity and I are both nineteen. While we are twin sisters, we're dizygotic twins - meaning that we don't necessarily look alike. She likes to lord over me that she was born first, making her technically older, although it means pretty much nothing. She's a couple of inches taller and her eyes are typically green while mine are blue, but our hair would be the same color if we hadn't dyed it. I say typically about her eyes because sometimes, depending on lighting and the color of the clothes she's wearing, they look kind of blue-ish.

Our hair used to be black, but a long time ago, when we were kids, she tried to dye hers white and red and I tried to dye mine blonde. Since then we've never had the patience to let it grow out naturally, so we've chemically treated our hair enough to actually need shampoo for color treatment. Currently, hers is a bright blue from _SPLAT_ brand dye, but mine is a sort of light ginger.

I'm five foot five, give or take an inch or two, and last time Serenity had a physical exam, she was five foot seven. I envy her that height although there's really no reason to - there's not really anything she can commonly reach that I can't and her life isn't actually made easier by it.

We do dress similarly, though, when going out casually - neither of us especially like dresses or skirts. We'd just as soon wear jeans, graphic tees, jackets, and either sneakers or boots the rest of our lives - except I usually have to wear pantsuits with a black jacket to seem more professional.

Serenity and I grew up pretty much on our own. Our parents both died when we were little. Sure, we had a guardian technically raising us, but by the time our mom died when we were seven, we didn't care to bond with any adults. Neither of us are that social so we just kept to ourselves for the most part. We only usually interact with other people when we have to or if we're bored or otherwise interested. We registered for emancipation when we were fifteen, and we got tired of being told what to do.

Jericho, California is not a place I've ever been before. It is a relatively small town where everyone knows everyone's name. Not my ideal city, but I suppose it works if you like having people around you. Understand that neither of us Kasakabes would be here if there wasn't a particularly interesting case that had actually managed to catch the attention of the both of us.

By "case" I mean investigation. It should be ridiculous, but I'm nineteen and an FBI SSA. I still wonder how it happened, but Serenity and I skipped a couple grades in middle school and then did most of high school online. It made it a lot easier to get jobs started. I made a name for myself in law enforcement, and a good one, at that. A lot of people know who I am, less because of my authority and more because of my accomplishments despite my youth. It's not that I'm some freak prodigy - I'll be the first to admit I'm really good at my job, and I give it a hundred percent, but while I was making my name and turning my future career goals into present realities, I never had many obstacles that couldn't be overcome by talking to superiors. It was a fast climb, dizzying at times.

As for Serenity, she's also pretty powerful for her age, except… well. Not in the FBI, that's for sure. Rather the opposite, she works in the mafia. It's not like she's the big boss responsible for everything, but she does have a lot of influence. In the organized crime department, she's got a promise of safety for the both of us so long as I keep the FBI off of her trail, and, by extension, I turn a blind eye to the snipers she contacts and the hits she occasionally assists.

The upholstery of the convertible was covered in blood, darkened into a burgundy and crimson red that stained the velvet seats and painted the windows with great splotches. The body had been removed, but some man in his twenties had owned the car. There was no evidence of anyone else, nor was there a murder weapon.

It wasn't the only case like it. Nearly a dozen murders in similar situations through the past decades had been committed along the same five-mile stretch of road surrounding the bridge over the lake that the car was parked on. It was truly an interesting murder, unlike some of the ones where it's quite clear that it was the estranged father or the disgruntled, jealous lover or just some psychopath with a sick mind game going on.

"Almost, Serenity," I replied with a roll of my eyes. I love her but her impatience has gotten old a long time ago. "Five more minutes."

She sighed loudly for dramatic effect but didn't complain, instead moving to lean over the rail of the bridge and watch the water rush over the rocks down below.

There were four other officers with us. Two were wearing gear and were stationed down in the rushing water, searching for evidence of any sort with detectors and sonar equipments. The other two, both local deputies, were inspecting the car with me. While I leaned over the passenger's seat, trying to ignore the stench of blood, Deputy Jaffe leaned over the driver's side. Deputy Hein, who was more inclined to talk and hover than do anything useful, was chilling by the trunk aside from when he occasionally yelled to ask the forensics if they'd found anything and always got a negative answer.

"No sign of struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Spotless." Hein shook his head and I tried to mostly tune him out as I pulled back out of the car. "It's almost _too _clean."

I rolled my eyes. _There's no such thing as a 'clean' or 'spotless' crime scene. _"So, this kid, Troy. He was dating your daughter, wasn't he?" Jaffe asked Hein with an air of polite conversation.

I looked over the people casually. Two men were sauntering along the bridge and towards us like they thought they were royalty. I raised my eyebrows at them - the taller one wore jeans and a long brown leather jacket, and his short hair was slightly spiked like he'd used hair product. The other had soft hair that curved over his forehead and wore jeans and a button-up shirt, a much more tame outfit than the other. The younger-looking one seemed about trying to fit in while the older seemed more like he couldn't care less what anyone thought of him. They were around the same age but there was definitely a couple years' difference, however they looked similar enough to have been brothers. The only jewelry that either of them wore was a necklace with a pendant tucked under the 'rebel's' shirt.

"Yeah," Hein nodded slightly, looking away from Jaffe at the turn of the conversation.

"How's Amy doing?"

Like I said - everyone knows everyone.

"She's putting up missing posters downtown."

Makes sense. Better to be hopeful than to assume your boyfriend's dead - that's how most people would think, anyway. It's not like we found the body, but I highly doubt that he lost this much blood and survived.

The older stranger stopped by the trunk of the car. They really seemed comfortable here, like they belonged. The younger brother stopped next to Thing One.

Thing Two was clean-shaven and had very soft, almost fragile features. It didn't detract from his appearance, just made him look a bit younger and a bit more innocent than he probably was. He looked like your average guy. College, maybe? Thing One, on the other hand, was more rugged, with sharper looks that made him seem older than the other.

"You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Thing One asked, looking about to prop his elbow on the top of the car. He thought better of it.

I raised my eyebrows. "Due diligence and all that - Who are you?"

Thing One held up a brown leather wallet and flipped it open for just a moment, letting me see the badge long enough to identify that it was an FBI ID and that he matched the picture, but not long enough to be completely sure of its authenticity. "Federal marshals."

Jaffe looked over at Hein and the latter smirked while Jaffe chuckled. "You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?"

Thing Two laughed a bit and Thing One returned the veiled insult with a charismatic smile. "Thanks, that's awfully kind of you."

"Oh, grow up," Serenity told Jaffe, already irritated with him. It probably didn't help that he'd tried to push her away from the car's scene already.

"You did have another one just like this, correct?" Thing One prompted me.

I eyed him and crossed my arms. "Hm. Yeah, there was another about a mile off the bridge."

Thing Two cocked his head at Jaffe, ignoring the prods at their ages and credentials. "So, the victim - you knew him?"

"In a town like this, everybody knows everybody," Jaffe explained with a shrug. Evidently this didn't bother him half as much as it did Serenity and I, big-city-lovers.

"Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?" Thing One pressed, trying to sound casual.

_Shouldn't federal marshals already know this stuff from files they read before they're sent out into the field? Also, shouldn't they look more the part? Yes, yes they probably should. Well, if they don't look, talk, or act the part, then they're probably a replica._

"Not that the local P.D. has found," I responded, crossing my arms over my chest and watching them for any signs of deceit.

"So what's the theory?"

"No idea," I lied bluntly. It was clearly murder and/or kidnapping, given the evidence. "Serial murderer, kidnapping ring, human trafficking, et cetera."

Thing One gave a big, faux smile at everyone that nearly felt contagious. I half wanted to smile now, too, because it did seem genuine and radiated friendly charm. "Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys."

Thing Two didn't approve of this, and he stomped on Thing One's foot as hard as he could while smiling pleasantly to me. "Thank you for your time."

Thing One nodded to me after Thing Two turned around to walk the other way, and as he turned when he thought I wasn't looking, he made a face of immense pain and irritation that really did make me smile.

Serenity waited until they were halfway off of the bridge before she moved up to me and nodded towards them. "We're going to follow them, aren't we?"

"You've got it," I muttered to her, before turning to the deputies. "Email me," I ordered them with my best attempt at a sincere smile. "I'll be in touch."

"Wake me up with a phone call before nine and I'll shoot you all," Serenity added as a precaution as we fell into step beside each other. I slid my fingers under the rims of the plastic latex crime scene gloves before pulling back and stripping them off with a snap, throwing them into one of the waste bins on the side of the bridge road.

We had to walk pretty fast to catch up to Thing One and Thing Two but they weren't walking at rocket-speed to begin with, anyway, so who cares? I could hear Thing One's voice moving back towards Serenity and I with the wind, anyway. "Come on," he sighed in exasperation to Thing Two, who walked side by side with him. "They don't really know what's going on!"

"He faked the vocal inflection," Serenity murmured softly to me. I noticed it too but it was nice to tell that I wasn't the only person who wasn't a complete moron. I love having Serenity help me out sometimes. Indeed, Thing One did not sound nearly as local as he had a moment ago.

"We're all alone on this," Thing One continued. If either of them noticed the Kasakabe sisters following them, they didn't comment. "I mean, if we're going to find Dad, we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves."

_Dad? Missing persons. Well, that would be the reason for fraud. Ourselves? No mention of mother, so she'd either dead or estranged. Which does also imply that they're brothers._

Thing Two finally cleared his throat and stopped walking, turning directly around. Thing One looked at him for a minute before following in the other's lead and turning to Serenity and I.

"Hello again," Serenity greeted with an actual grin. "Kudos. You nearly had us."

"You asked too many basic questions," I agreed. "And there was the badge flashed too quickly, so you were close."

Thing One and Thing Two exchanged another look. I could tell by looking at them that they were tensing. "Misses, we were just leaving," Thing Two started slightly nervously.

I waved my hand at them dismissively, interrupting them with about as much care as I had. "Forget about it," I told them bluntly. "You didn't ask for any information you couldn't have gotten through the papers or public relations, so you have personal motivations. That makes it much less dangerous."

"I suggest we just take it from the top and this time you tell us who you are and what you want before you get arrested for fraud," Serenity advised lightheartedly, already thinking ahead to avoid any panic.

I held out my hand to Thing One, who seemed to be leading Thing Two for the most part in this part of whatever their operation was. "SSA Holly Kasakabe."

"Serenity Kasakabe," Serenity added, crossing her arms and giving them both her characteristic smirk.

The boys both exchanged a long look. I let my hand fall back to my side and waited for them to come to a decision. Finally, they both kind of sighed and Thing One moved to wave at me. "I'm Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam."

I smiled. "Good, you're cooperating!"

"What did you mean about finding your dad?" Serenity asked, moving straight towards the business side of things. She kept her cool really well and looked over her shoulder, ensuring that no one was close enough to overhear. We can be cruel and manipulative when we need to be, but it's not exactly something we enjoy. Serenity and I really don't want to be bitches, we just don't usually have a choice.

"You probably wouldn't believe us," Sam pointed out with a slight wince.

Serenity gave them her patented 'don't be stupid' look. "Try us."

"Our dad's gone out on a hunting trip and he hasn't called in a few days," Dean explained shortly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. I had the feeling that he was leaving something out but hey, at least they're giving us something to work with. "We think it might have something to do with the recent murders."

"You have reason to believe he'd been out here?" I asked curiously. "GPS, phone, vehicle, paper trail?"

"He told us - him - he'd be coming out to Jericho." Sam looked back over to the bridge. I could tell something was on his mind, and he seemed pretty stressed, but then, if his dad is missing, then that's okay. "We're just concerned."

"There haven't been any bodies found," I said softly, trying to be kind of tactful. Aside from lying about their identities (and I'm not exactly innocent of that, either) they seemed like okay guys. "Even though that means there is a variable of possibility, it also makes it hard to tell what steps to take in the investigation. But if you'd like to give me your phone numbers, I can give you a call if we find anything," I offered, tacking it on like a bit of an afterthought.

Dean and Sam exchanged another look and seemed to have an entire argument and come to a consensus with absolutely no words in about two seconds flat. _Siblings for the win. _I lost track of how many times that Serenity and I have done that.

Finally, Dean looked back to me and smiled almost apologetically. "Actually, we're doing a little poking around ourselves, so we'll probably figure out some things for ourselves, but your care is appreciated." The apologetic smile turned into an innocent little charm smile. "That is, unless you'd like to help us and keep us in line. You get insight to one of the missing peoples and we get the help of the law," he rationalized, still giving me that grin.

I couldn't help but smile slightly. I wasn't mesmerized by his looks, but it was always amusing when someone tried that on me, mostly because it had never worked and it was silly to think that they thought it would work on me. "Don't try to charm me," I warned, shaking my head at him slightly while trying not to smirk. I looked over to Serenity - at least if we went with them, we wouldn't be bored. "What do you think, Ser?"

Serenity looked over the boys appraisingly and gave me a thumbs-up. "What the hell? It could be fun." She shrugged like she didn't care, but I knew that she was interested in the idea.

I looked back to Dean and Sam. Dean was smirking expectantly at me and Sam's smile was almost apprehensive. "We're in."

* * *

><p>"I'll bet you that's her." Dean slid his sunglasses off his face while he pointed at a long-haired young adult pinning up flyers of the recent victim's car in an almost manic rush.<p>

"Fair guess," I agreed, leaning against the boys' car. They drive a sleek black Impala that seats five. It's very cool although the upholstery carries a slight scent of gunpowder. Still, it's a nice ride. Gunpowder doesn't bother me. "She's by a cafe," I closed my eyes and began reciting out of memory what I'd been told once when I joined the FBI. "It's not her home but it's not ours, either. Let's just ask her in there instead of asking her to come back to the police office. She'll be more comfortable and open up faster." I advised the boys more than I did Serenity; although this isn't her usual game, Serenity is no stranger to interrogations and she knows the same types of tactics as I do for the most part.

I opened my eyes and blinked, looking around. Neither Sam or Dean had bothered sticking around long enough to hear me finish talking, and Serenity must have gotten either bored or suddenly infatuated with one of the boys, because she had followed them. I glared at them across the street for a moment while Dean leaned against the wall next to Amy's most recently-posted flyer before muttering under my breath and following.

When I got to their earshot, I heard Dean introducing himself and his brother with that natural, subtly manipulative charisma. "We're his uncles - I'm Dean, this is Sammy."

Serenity smiled and gave a half-wave in polite acknowledgment before introducing herself to the girl. "My name's Serenity. I'm a family friend."

Amy looked them over coldly. Her eyes were bloodshot and red - I wasn't sure whether it was from crying or lack of sleep, although to be fair, it was probably both. "He never mentioned you to me." Her voice was steady, admirably so considering the turmoil showing through her fidgety body language.

I sensed she was about to turn away so I interrupted, smiling slightly, nonthreateningly. "My name is SSA Holly Kasakabe. Amy, I'm investigating your boyfriend's disappearance. Serenity is my sister and Dean and Sam are assisting with the investigation, so if you'd like to accompany us into the diner to answer a few questions, your assistance would be much appreciated."

Of course, no one thinks an FBI agent is a danger to innocent people, so after looking like she was about to run and watching the boys closely, she seemed to decide that they weren't likely to kidnap her from right in front of me. She nodded slightly, looking down and waiting for me to lead inside.

* * *

><p>"What's the last contact you had with your boyfriend?" I asked softly, keeping my voice down in the restaurant. Sitting in an isolated booth, Serenity was sandwiched between the Winchesters while I sat between Amy and the wall. This was deliberate - to give her the ability to run away but trusting her not to spoke volumes to one's safety.<p>

"I was on the phone with Troy." Amy was remarkably calm, considering the fervor with which she'd been hanging flyers. I swear, there are about two dozen on this block alone. "He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and… he never did." Her voice broke slightly. Sam slid a napkin across the table to her and she looked to him shyly for a moment before picking it up and dabbing tears away from her eyes without smearing her makeup.

"Did he say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?" Sam asked gently.

Amy took a moment to go through her conversation before she blinked her eyes shut and shook her head. "No. Nothing that I can remember."

"I like your necklace," Serenity commented. It may seem irrelevant, and… actually, it kind of is, but it should stop the waterworks for a minute. Neither of us are very comfortable with crying, and the only crying people we know how to comfort is each other. Our methods of comfort are quite unorthodox. We cringe away from sentimentality… to feel better, we usually binge on junkfood and watch TV that either scares the hell out of us or that features people being horrifically murdered.

Amy raised her hand to her necklace, a black leather cord with a pendant of a pentagram in a silver circle dangling just over her shirt. "Troy gave it to me," she explained with a watery, hesitant smile. She laughed. "Mostly to scare my parents with all of that devil stuff."

Sam laughed, too, and Dean looked over at him to see what was so funny. Sam smiled at Amy. "Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. It's really powerful." There sounded like a scuff under the table and Sam flinched slightly. I raised my eyebrows at Dean, who ignored the gesture. "I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing," Sam added lamely.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Thank you, _Unsolved Mysteries._" The older brother leaned forward over the table and Serenity and Sam followed suit so that they didn't miss what he said. "Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right, so if you've heard anything, Amy-"

Amy looked down and her eyes fell on the table.

"What is it?" I asked suddenly, knowingly, interrupting Dean.

Amy blushed. Serenity raised her eyebrows at the woman, expecting something silly and trivial. My hopes weren't exactly high, either. "Well, it's just…" Amy stopped for a moment. "I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk."

We did that 'sibling' thing again. Serenity and I spoke at the exact same time, saying the exact same thing, and curiously enough, Dean and Sam did it, too, so the four of us all said in complete synchrony: "What do they talk about?"

Amy blinked but wrote off the 'sibling phenomena.' "It's kind of this local legend," she explained, her blush fading slightly. So she didn't want to look stupid for believing in an urban legend. "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial Highway, like, decades ago." Sam nodded attentively, being a polite audience. "Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well… they disappear forever."

* * *

><p>The Winchesters' suggestion of going to the library was not followed up with a reason, but it worked for me nonetheless. Sam and Serenity were dragged by Dean and I back to the Impala and then to the local library, where Dean and Sam claimed a computer surrounded by racks and shelves of periodicals and newspaper copies, while I moved to talk to the manager and asked for any copies of obituaries. Although I don't believe in hauntings, it was possible that someone was copycatting and making it look like a ghost was committing the murders for the sake of the urban legend. It's happened before and it certainly will happen again in the future.<p>

I grabbed my pile of obituaries and moved back to join the Winchesters and Serenity, who were using the technology of the computer to search keywords in the online archives of the local newspaper, the _Jericho Herald. _"Any luck?" I asked, tossing the short stack of papers onto the desk next to the computer and sitting down in the chair on the right of Dean while Sam was on his brother's left. Serenity stood over Sam and leaned against his chair.

The search bar in the browser had the words "female murder hitchhiking" typed in and underneath the number was results was zilch. That was a pretty good answer for me.

"How do you think?" Dean asked sarcastically, before highlighting "hitchhiking" and replacing it with "Centennial Highway." He clicked go and received the same number of results: none.

Sam leaned over towards the keyboard. "Let me try."

Dean spent a millisecond glaring at his younger brother's hand before he smacked it with an audible noise. "I got it!"

Sam rolled his eyes and yanked back Dean's chair, then knelt in front of the computer. I shared a look with Serenity. They really were a lot like us. "Dude!" Dean snapped. "You're such a control freak!"

Sam ignored the hit he got to the shoulder for taking away his brother's job and his fingers hovered lightly over the buttons in the keyboard. "So… angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?"

"Yeah." Dean huffed and crossed his arms but stood behind my chair, letting Sam work.

"Well, maybe it's not murder…" Sam murmured.

I scoffed and looked off to the side. _Please, tell me I'm not mostly alone in a library with lunatics. _They'd seemed sane earlier… I looked back to see Sam highlighting "murder" and replacing it with "suicide." "Boys, please. Believe me, we're dealing with a real, flesh-and-blood person, not Casper the Unfriendly Ghost."

"You'd be surprised what's really out there… in the dark." Dean muttered, leaning to see the computer screen.

Sam scanned over the result. This time there actually was one - an old article from April of 1981 titled "Suicide on Centennial." He clicked on it, ignoring what I'd said, and scrolled down to the article.

I only read the first paragraph before I decided that it was irrelevant to the investigation to read further. _A local woman's drowning death was ruled a suicide, the county Sheriff's Department said earlier today. Constance Welch, twenty-four, of 4636 Breckenridge Road, leapt off Sylvania Bridge, at mile thirty-three of Centennial Highway, and subsequently drowned last night._

"Look, Sam, this is pointless," I tried to reason, reaching over his arms and hitting the escape button. "The story's sad, yes, but unless it's a copycat it's a waste of our time. And if it's a suicide then it can't be a copycat."

Sam just maximized the window again. "Please, Holly, just let us do this."

I tried to give him my patented 'schoolteacher' look, as Serenity dubbed it, but the look of earnest pleading in Sam's eyes made me sigh and lean back in my chair to play along.

"Does it say why she jumped?" Serenity asked. Even if she wasn't interested, she was willing to humor her new friends, even if they were acting a bit insane.

"Yeah," Sam nodded slowly. "An hour before they found her, she calls nine-one-one. Apparently her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die."

"''_Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch.''_" I read off of the screen, looking away and sighing. I hate reading things like this. It's not like there's anything I can do about it, so what's the point in depressing myself with them?

"Hm." Dean glanced over at me for a second before pointing to the picture of Sylvania bridge, the same one where Troy's car had been found and decorated with blood. "Does the bridge look familiar to anyone else?"

* * *

><p>"Let's not stay for long," I cautioned, closing the door to the Impala. The slam echoed over the lake below and the wooden structure of the bridge made it eerie, lit up only with the light from the moon. Sylvania bridge is long - not as long as the Golden Gate Bridge, but still quite a lengthy stretch. The beams are spread far apart and the rails are only about a foot away from the edge.<p>

"Why? Are you scared of the dark?" Serenity taunted, giving me a punch in the arm. "Don't worry, Nellie, we've got big, strong _men _to protect us." Sarcasm dripped off of her words like poison.

I rolled my eyes, laughing. "No, but the bridge isn't in use for a _reason_, and it won't look good for civilians to be at a crime scene." I pointedly glanced at the Winchester boys.

"Ah, we're used to getting in trouble. Concern is nice, though." Dean sent me a charm smile again and I exhaled a long-suffering sigh. He stopped about halfway in the bridge and leaned against the wooden railing, crossing his arms over the top and leaning over to look at the water. It was dark and dirty and the moonlight reflected over the rippling sloshes over rocks and sand. "So, this is where Constance took the swan dive."

"I still don't see how this is relevant." I sidled up to Dean's left and looked over the edge with him, biting my lip. "I'm pushing to let you guys out here, but investigating Constance Welch's suicide isn't going to help this case!"

"Is that all this is to you?" Dean asked me suddenly, turning his head so he looked to me. We were almost nose-to-nose when he leant over and I was close enough to see moonlight reflect from his eyes. "A case? Nothing more?"

I huffed slightly and looked back out to the water. "Well, yeah! What else would it be?"

"People have actually lost their lives," he murmured grimly.

I looked back to him, realizing what the question had actually meant. _Are you really human? Do you see anything besides a puzzle? What are these people's lives worth to you? _"Well, yeah, I know that. But there's nothing I can do about a girl that died nearly twenty-five years ago. It's sad but I can't help her." I looked back to him, meeting his eyes again. I need to convey that I do feel, just not in the same way. "The difference between us, aside from really the obvious, is that I think differently. You think of people as people, humans with lives and loves. I only think of them that way if they have a relation to _me._" I shrugged and blinked, looking down before I realized that that meant I was looking at his chest, and I looked back up to his face. "I'm not coldhearted. My mind just works differently."

"Right." He seemed to realize he was making me uncomfortable. Unlike most guys, who would crow in pride at unsettling one of the unshakable Kasakabe sisters, Dean let the subject drop.

"Do you think your dad would have been here?" I asked softly, trying to be tactful, but the fact remains that he's looking for his dad and that's the only reason we ever met.

Dean turned back to the water and I did the same. "Well, he was chasing this story and we're chasing him."

I nodded. "Right. Logic follows that solving this puzzle will give you another piece to yours."

"Life is a puzzle. Might as well solve as many as possible to make it worth your time." Dean looked over and gave me a lopsided smile. I smiled back at him simply because of it - it wasn't that 'I'm hot and irresistible' smile he'd given me when he was trying to get something for himself. It was a sincere, 'I'm happy at the moment, thanks for making me that way' grin. I leaned over to the side and bumped our shoulders together. "I guess after this we'll just keep digging until we find him. It might take a while."

"Well…" I paused and reached into my back pocket, getting a card from the small supply I kept with me. I always try to carry ten to twenty in case I need to give someone a way to contact me in a hurry, like a suspect or a potential victim. I passed one over to the older Winchester. "Keep that with you." I looked back over the water, knowing he was listening. "Because after we find the person behind this, Serenity and I will probably split town, go somewhere with another puzzle waiting for us, with only the edges and the rest needing filled in. We never stay with anyone for very long. But if you or Sam need something, then give me a call. We'll figure something out to help."

Dean took the card with slight surprise but tucked it safely into his jacket pocket before zipping it up to protect it from elements or falling out. "Thanks."

After that we fell into a sort of silence. I'm not sure why the boys wanted to come out to the bridge but Dean seemed content for the moment as it was, and so I wasn't about to object. It was peaceful. We weren't touching but we were very close to each other, close enough for us to feel each other's body heat, and I could smell his cologne. But we didn't talk, just stared at the rough water surface.

As Serenity and Sam talked by the hood of the car, I caught a few words - from what I gathered, Sam had a girlfriend back home in Stanford, California who he meant to return to and he had a job interview on Monday. He didn't want to go back to the way things had been before he went to college, and his dad hadn't been to close to either of the boys since their mom died when they were kids. They still hadn't caught the murderer and their dad had been searching for him ever since.

I didn't mean to listen in. I really don't. But years of being constantly in danger have made me hypervigilant at the best of times, and even if I'm having my own conversation I hear words and sounds, and then I piece things together and get all of this information. Serenity and I are easy to talk to if we like you, because if we like you then we put an effort into being compassionate. If we had the patience we could probably pass as therapists.

So I was pretty jarred when I got a rough nudge from Dean and his arm found its way around me to pull me back next to him and slightly behind. "What are you doing?!" I cried, feeling assaulted. His fingers curled into my hip and kept me in place.

"Sam!" Dean called over his shoulder, his grip on me not slackening. I started to struggle; I trusted him and now he's manhandling me and calling out for his brother. Is he a threat now? But Dean didn't let me run and instead pointed down the bridge. "Just look!" He hissed.

I stopped and followed his orders and my eyes widened. Suddenly I realized why he'd grabbed me so tightly and kept me from running - I would have ran away from the car and therefore straight down the bridge towards the woman who had come out of nowhere. He wasn't trying to hurt me, he had been trying to protect me.

A thin woman with knotted, long black hair stood on the railing, her feet bare. She was clothed in only a long, ragged, torn white dress the billowed behind her. _But there's not any wind. _Her face was pale, gaunt, her eyes sunken and dark. She looked out of breath, high or drunk, and stared, transfixed, at Dean, giving him what seemed almost like a… _seductive, needy _expression. And not needy as in "I need everything from shelter to hugs," but needy as in… the sexual kind.

"What the hell are you doing, lady?!" Serenity shouted, jumping up from where she'd been seated comfortably on the hood of the Winchesters' car. "Get off of the rail before you kill yourself!"

I noticed everything about her. The temperature was dropped and she… she… she had no shadow. I could see Dean's, and mine, on the concrete but the woman was absolutely shadow-less, her arms outstretched to a couple of beams. Her hair and dress blew but there was no wind to blow it. And she had suddenly managed to get halfway through the bridge and climb onto the rail without anyone noticing - not even Serenity or I! That's next to impossible! It all made me recoil and cringe back against Dean, who crossed his other arm in front of me in case I would try to run.

"Where did she come from?" I whimpered. Everything about her was just _wrong. _And I can't trust many people; the only thing besides my sister that I can always, always trust are my senses, but right now the feedback I'm getting is impossible, so it's like an overload and it's terrifying.

What bothered me the most was that the woman was identical to the pictures of Constance Welch.

She looked at us emptily for a long moment before she let her fingers drag over the wooden beams on either side and she let herself fall forward over the edge of the bridge.

"Hey!" I screamed and suddenly pushed myself out of Dean's arms. He was surprised enough for me to get away and start to run after the girl, pushing myself to move through the frigid air.

Dean cursed behind me and I heard his footsteps as he started after me, followed by more pounding as Serenity and Sam joined in. I reached the point where the woman had thrown herself off and lurched over the edge, eyes searching the water frantically. There was _nothing _to suggest she was there and she wasn't dangling off the edge of the bridge. No body in the water, no break in the ripples.

"Where did she go?!" I demanded when Dean reached me. He didn't answer, instead grasping the back of my sweater and pulling me back away from the edge. "She was right there! She fell! When did she get here, where did she go?"

"I don't know," I heard Serenity say, shaking her head.

Dean turned me so I was facing him and set his hands on my shoulders. "Holly. Listen." I tried to ignore him, craning my neck to look over the bridge again. If the fall hadn't killed her she could be drowning now but _where was she?! _Dean's voice snapped me back when he spoke a bit rougher. "Look at me!" I looked back to him, breathing quickly and panicking. "She's not there. I don't know what it was but you can't help her. Just breathe."

"Nellie, calm down," Serenity tried to help, her hand on my back. "She's gone." I forced myself to close my eyes and slow down my breathing before I started to hyperventilate. "It's alright. She's not there."

The Impala's engine started, the low rumbling cutting through the background noise of the waves while the headlights snapped on and illuminated the bridge. Dean's hands slipped off my shoulders as he twisted to look. "What the-"

"Uh…" Sam started. I did an inventory - Serenity, Sam, Dean, and I. None of us were driving… "Who's driving your car?" Sam hit the nail on the head.

Dean didn't answer, but reached into his pocket and lifted up his keyring, letting them dangle together for a minute, clinking and jingling. I glanced at them and then back to the car. "Oh… reassuring."

The car jerked into motion and started off at about twenty to thirty miles an hour. "Uh…" I started dumbly, as the headlights bounced back and the light reflected the silhouette of absolutely no one driving the car.

"Run!" Serenity yelled.

We all turned tail and ran away down the bridge, but the roaring of the engine only seemed to grow louder. I chanced a look over my shoulder - no matter how much ground passed under my feet, the car was still gaining far too fast for comfort. At this rate it would hit us, and while I'm terrified and confused, I think keeping my life is a bit more important than understanding why a car is trying to kill us. "Over the rail!"

We all moved for the rails. Dean kicked up onto the top rail and then jumped off, doing a swan dive down into the water about ten to twenty meters down. Sam grabbed the top rail and swung his legs up over it, landing awkwardly and sliding along the edge to hug a support beam. Serenity jumped over and latched tightly onto one of the lower beams running through the posts, her knees nearly touching the ground and one of her feet hanging out over the edge. I vaulted it but overshot and caught myself on a protruding metal pipe from underneath the bridge.

I shut my eyes, swinging back and forth while the rumbling of the engine reached a loud point before stopping entirely all at once. The headlights cut and plunged us all into darkness again.

"...Is it done being berserk?" I called quietly, half afraid that, despite the impossibility, it would hear me and roar to life again just to prove me wrong. My eyes took a minute to adjust to only having the moonlight again.

"Think so," Sam panted. "Dean!"

Dean's voice called up from down below. "I'm good!" It sounded like he spat something - probably filthy lake water - out of his mouth. "A bit wet, but I'm good!"

Serenity grunted slightly as she straightened up and leaned over the hood of the car. It didn't start again and I saw her feet move as she pushed herself back over the rail. "Hang in there, Holly," she advised.

I looked down to the choppy water and my grasp on the metal pipe tightened. "Believe me, I really wasn't intending on taking a swim."

It didn't take long for Serenity and Sam to get back onto the bridge, and once they were safe, I swung deliberately until I kicked my leg up and my heel caught on the edge of the bridge. Fumbling to push myself up, I grasped the rail with one hand and pulled until I was laying on the edge. Serenity leaned over and helped me to stand up with my back to the drop and Sam slipped one arm around my back and lifted me over the rails.

"You're bleeding," Serenity pointed out to me. "There's a cut on your finger."

I grimaced, raising my hand to press my fingers to my lips. I tasted the metallic of blood almost immediately. "Damn. I must have cut myself trying to get up again."

"Dean?" Sam shouted, leaning over the side. "Dean!"

I turned around, ignoring the cut and looked over to see Dean crawling up onto the shore. I could already see that the mud and filthy water slicked over Dean's clothes and face. His voice was clearly annoyed when he shouted back, "What?!"

"You alright?"

Dean panted, rolling over to lie half out of the water on his back. He lifted one hand up to make the 'A-OK' sign with his fingers. "I'm super!"

* * *

><p>Dean slammed the hood of the Impala down and I handed him a towel before sticking my finger in my mouth and sucking the blood away. There was no point in helping an infection to set in. "Wipe off your face, man." There was only so much they could do about the clothes but Dean's worries seemed to be more of his car than himself, once he established no one was hurt. "Is the car alright or do I need to call someone to pick us up?"<p>

Dean rubbed his face with the towel, getting most of the filth off of his cheeks, chin, and nose before wiping his hands with it. "Whatever she did to it, it seems alright now." He turned around and leaned against the car, staring into the night almost challengingly. "That Constance chick - what a _bitch!_" He yelled, kicking his leg and scuffing his shoe on the ground.

"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure," Sam agreed. He leaned against the side of the car with his arm on the roof. "So, where's the job go from here, genius?"

"Wait, she? Constance? As in, Constance Welch, the chick that committed suicide twenty-five years ago?" Serenity sighed and rolled her eyes, pushing her hair out of her face with one hand. "What, are you blaming a long-dead woman for jumping off a bridge and then a car going haywire and nearly killing us?"

"The _car _didn't go haywire." Despite what I'd seen with the woman who disappeared as soon as she'd disappeared, I have to remain calm and rational. I'm not crazy enough to say that it was all a hallucination - no one can have the same hallucination, let alone four people at once - but something odd had happened. "It must have been hotwired or something."

"Holly, no one could have come to the bridge without us noticing. We were close enough to the car until the girl threw herself off and we weren't gone long enough for anyone to hotwire it. Besides, the doors were all locked once we got out, and we would have heard someone breaking the material to get to the wires from the outside," Serenity argued.

I hung my head. There's nothing I can do to argue with that impeccable logic. "Then why did it move?" I glared at the automobile. "And what was that woman? She just came out of thin air and then disappeared. Even after Dean fell, he still surfaced. The human body is buoyant as long as they're inhaling oxygen and struggling. No one can die of oxygen starvation or water inhalation that quickly."

Sam and Dean both exchanged a look before Dean talked behind me, laying a hand on my shoulder in complete seriousness. "Holly, I think you should stay with us for a while. You and Serenity, both. That woman… that was Constance Welch."


	2. Supernatural: Unsubtle Ghost-Busting

Dean slapped a credit card down on the table in front of the lobbyist. Reading it upside down, I caught the name Hector Aframian. I raised a single eyebrow but was just too confused as it was to challenge Dean - he was the only person, aside from Sam, who had even an idea of what had happened at the bridge. Quite frankly, I was irritable and terrified, which is never a good mix for a Kasakabe sister.

Dean and Sam drove us back to the town and then took us to a hotel, volunteering to pay for our lodging in turn for helping them. Since the bridge, however, Serenity and I weren't alone. We stayed by each other and Sam and Dean stayed with each of us respectively in case we decided to split from our sister. They seemed genuinely concerned, which was a bit heartwarming, but I still just wanted to know what was going on.

"Two rooms, please," Dean requested as the clerk set down his novel with big-fonted print.

The clerk lifted the card from the guest ledger and stared at it for a moment before grunting, "You guys having a reunion or something?"

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

Clerk looked up at me. "I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month."

I looked up to Dean in surprise and silently asked, _do you think it's your father?_

The solemn nod and the look to Sam that I got in return answered the question well enough.

* * *

><p>I slipped the keycard in and then pushed the door open, passing the card back to Sam. "Keep a hold of that," I murmured softly, not wanting to wake up the other sleeping guests. "We can stay in here as long as we like."<p>

"See?" I heard Dean say smugly to his brother. "Told you having the personified FBI on our side would help."

"Personified FBI or not, I get offended when people talk behind my back, and the phrase 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' is quite accurate."

"You should listen to her. She's right." Serenity's wise words of knowledge - special edition! Get them today for free! Limited offer.

Upon stepping inside the hotel room, my first impression was of a tornado. The room was dark and dusty. "Whoa… disaster zone," Serenity muttered. I covered my mouth with my arm, just in case all of the dirt decided to make me sneeze.

Every surface that could hold something was holding something. Most of the flat surfaces aside from the ground were covered in torn, crumpled, or old pieces of paper from newspapers, maps, notes, photographs, and anything in between. The walls had been zealously redecorated with newspaper clippings and photographs tacked up, along with some signs of two to five word phrases and arrows taped between and around them. Books were on the bed, which otherwise looked unslept in, and a McDonalds' trash bag was on the floor by the bedside stand.

It was dark even when I turned on the light, although it could have just been the dark colors. "Whoa," Sam whispered. I stepped forwards to the bed, curious what the pictures and writing on the wall were of, but heard a crunching under my feet. I looked down - I'd stepped on part of a long circle around the bed made of pure and off-white materials, like salts and crushed shells.

Serenity got down on her knees and scooped up a handful of the stuff. She let it run through her fingers before looking up at Sam, disgruntled and puzzled. "Is your dad in an occult or something? Salt and cats-eye shells."

Sam only shrugged noncommittally while I moved over the white line and to the wall, looking over the articles. _They're all the victims from Centennial. _"I don't think he's been here for a couple of days, at least." Dean sighed. I could hear in his voice that he was disappointed but trying to keep his hopes up. "What's over there?"

"It's all the Centennial victims," I reported, smoothing my hands over the rumpled papers to read them better. I narrowed my eyes and squinted. "Most of these people are all white males… there are a couple African Americans, though. Going by the photos they're in their early twenties to late thirties… it's a very wide range, for a serial killer." I turned back to the boys and my sister upon my realization and crossed my arms. "Sam, Dean, your father was working victimology."

"Is that strange?" Serenity asked with a raised eyebrow, not amused. "It seems like a rational step."

"But the way he's done it…" I looked over the papers and shook my head. "It reminds me of how my team usually does it, except with a wall instead of a bulletin. There doesn't seem to be a common denominator, anyway - age, ethnicity, so the link must have to do with their actions or histories rather than their physical type which could be quite telling, if we knew what it was." I waved at most of the other writing - things about witches and stake burning, dancing skeletons, devils, and demons, and other such things I don't believe in or care much for. "Not sure what all this is meant as, though." I stopped and reached up to tap one of the largest taped notes, posted just over the article on Constance Welch. Written in the biggest handwriting of all of them was the phrase 'woman in white.' I pressed my finger to that and looked back. "This was important somehow."

"Woman in white," Serenity repeated off of the note.

"I don't get it." I was pretty rare that I admitted it but I had to now. After the events that took place on the bridge, I have to admit that I'm not totally in control of the situation. "A woman in white is a legend, a ghost story."

Serenity nodded and seemed half lost in her thoughts, bringing her memories in check. "A woman in white is a woman whose husband cheated on her, and she haunts other men waiting to strike down any man displaying infidelity."

"No wonder there's so many victims," I laughed, rolling my eyes and looking back away from the papers. "Guys are pigs." Serenity and I both laughed and she stepped over close enough to give me a high-five before I caught the unamused roll of his eyes that Dean gave me and stopped, biting my lip. "Sorry. I… kind of forgot we were in male company… I'll stop making jokes at the victims' expenses now."

Serenity elbowed me. "Smooth."

I stayed in place to let Sam pass and look at the Constance Welch article again. Dean sat himself down on the barely-touched covers of the hotel room's bed. Sam looked from the article to Dean and glanced at the ground for a minute before looking back up. "Dad figured it out," he said softly.

"What do you mean?" I asked immediately, looking along the wall again for anything to suggest an identity. "Where? I don't see anything!"

Sam's lips quirked as he tried not to smile at my confusion. _What, am I missing something?_ "He found the same article that we did," Sam started to explain, gesturing to the paper hung on the wall. "Constance Welch. She's a woman in white."

Dean looked over the faces of the victims and chuckled. "You sly dogs," he praised. Serenity sighed loudly and pretended to gag and Dean brought himself back to reality. "Alright, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it."

I crossed my arms and looked up to the ceiling to pray for patience. I really do like Dean and Sam from the time I've spent with them so far - and you know what? It's okay that they like looking up supernatural things on the internet or in the library. It really is fine with me. But it's irritating me that they're not accepting that the killer is living. Believing that a ghost is responsible is silly and immature.

"She might have another weakness," Sam suggested.

"Well, Dad would want to make sure." Dean said it with such an air of finality that Sam didn't try to argue. "He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?"

"No, the article had nothing about Welch's burial," I answered for Sam, watching Dean hopelessly. "Can we please take a moment to remember that real people are being killed and dead people tend to be severely and permanently invalidated?"

"If I were Dad, though, I'd go ask her husband." Sam's finger hovered over the article, presumably looking at the tag from Joseph Welch. "If he's still alive."

Serenity leaned over to me slowly, not making any sudden movements, and whispered in my ear, "I'll distract them and you run to get backup." I'm not entirely sure if she's serious or not.

Dean lifted his hand to cover his mouth when he let out a loud yawn. I raised my eyebrows and clenched my fists, determined not to do the same thing. _The power of suggestion is a bitch sometimes. _"Alright… I'm going back to our room. Why don't you see if you can find an address. I'm going to get cleaned up. See you tomorrow, girls?" He looked over at Serenity and I calmly but didn't immediately look away, so I knew it was an actual question.

I gave him a salute with one hand. "You have an extra key. Wake us up when you're ready to do something and are feeling a bit more sane." I waved to Sam and grimaced around their father's room before beginning to pick my way over the pile of salt. "Goodnight, Dean. 'Night, Sammy."

Sam groaned. "Oh, not you, too."

"Dean taught me that."

Sam sighed. "Dean's a jerk."

Dean scowled. "You're a bitch."

I laughed and Serenity snickered. "Yeah, 'night, Sammy. See you both tomorrow."

* * *

><p>The boys invaded our room the next day once we unlocked the door. W slept late, because… well, because if you're not throwing your ringing phones across the room and sleeping until the boys wake you up past noon, then you're not living, is what I say.<p>

I grimaced, trying to pull the brush through my hair, and sat on the edge of my bed. I turned and pulled my feet up onto the mattress.

Sam was sitting at the foot of Serenity's bed, while she leaned against the wall by the head of the bed and checked her email and online notifications. The younger brother was holding up his phone and I could hear a female voice faintly over the line as he listened to his voicemail inbox.

Dean came back into the room, running a hand through his hair and effectively giving it the 'rolled out of bed' look that he seemed to favor. "Hey, guys, I'm starving."

"Nice to meet you, Starving. Have you seen a Dean anywhere?" Serenity asked without blinking, looking up from her computer long enough to give him a fake little grin. I laughed and reached over to give her a high-five.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm going to grab something to eat in the diner down the street. Do any of you want anything?"

I shook my head. I don't always like to eat right after I wake up, and to be honest, I go entire days with barely eating anything sometimes when I'm stressed. It's not exactly the healthiest habit but I generally dissuade myself from eating when I feel nauseous. Still being spooked by the - woman? Thing? - on the bridge, I didn't feel much like stomaching anything.

Sam answered without even lifting his eyes from the phone. "No."

"Aframian's buying," Dean tried to persuade, smiling at Serenity. My lips pursed at the mention of the false identity, but I decided that it was time to choose my battles; the more pressing one was clearly with whoever had set the car to try to kill us.

Serenity nodded slightly. "What the hell," she shrugged, and hit the escape key on her keyboard, reaching around to close the top. "I'll go."

Dean waited for her to close up her laptop and then stand up, stretch her arms luxuriously, and then lift up my sweater from on top of hers over the chair. She proceeded to throw it at my face before getting hers and pulling it on tightly. "Right. We'll get lunch and come back and we'll pick up with whatever we're doing." She shook her head slightly to reorient her thoughts. "Although I'm really not sure what we're investigating, at this point."

I shrugged halfheartedly. If nothing else, at least the Winchesters have kept us entertained. "Who knows? It's better than being bored, though." I was aware that discussing this in front of the boys could be considered rude. I also understood that I have that right. I don't know a lot about those two and I could easily get them both arrested for fraud and possibly identity theft, depending on whether or not Aframian was a real persona. And while I'm all for cooperating with them, because it's a nice change of pace, it's my responsibility to make sure that fraud is the absolute furthest that they get without a good reason.

Serenity clapped my shoulder on the way out. It didn't hurt. The punches and light hits were usually signs of affection between us. The hugs usually happen after a fight or when we're both just happy and/or relieved, like after I've been hurt on a case or she's had a hit that didn't go exactly as planned.

"I'll bring you back something," she promised, walking up to Dean and gesturing to the door. "Let's go." She slid through the ajar doorway easily without looking back to see if Dean was following her. He shared a look with Sam before slinking backwards.

* * *

><p>The older siblings didn't make it far. Once they left the motel, they stepped out into the sunlit path and started to turn right, to walk to the nearby diner. Serenity noticed a pair of uniforms - along with a squad car and the deputies from the crime scene on Centennial. She didn't pay much mind but Dean reached out to touch her shoulder. She glanced back; he'd stopped and was watching the deputies with a grimace.<p>

"Problem?" She asked, quietly, so as to not alert the police in case there actually was a problem.

"Yeah…" He winced. "They probably ran our names. They wouldn't have checked out. It's the only reason they'd be here."

"Oh, fantastic." Serenity shot him a dull, unimpressed _look _that could probably have melted ice, if there was a transducer handy for it. "Tell me - in hindsight, does it seem like your brightest idea to impersonate federal marshals?"

"Oh, yeah. Right above impersonating FBI agents," he answered sarcastically, turning around on his heel and moving in the completely opposite direction. He slipped his hand into his pocket and got his phone. "We gotta get Sam out of here."

* * *

><p>"<em>So come home soon, okay? I love you." <em>

I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to hear the cheerful, feminine voice on Sam's voicemail. The phone beeped as it ended.

"So, girlfriend then," I started conversationally, zipping up my sweater. Even though I'd already overheard him telling Serenity about the girl while on the bridge, it seemed like it would be a little bit not-good to appear to know about his personal life without being personally told.

"Yeah." He closed the phone with a click and had a dazed grin on his face that made me smile softly. "Back in Kansas… her name is Jess."

"Short for Jessica?" I guessed. When he didn't correct me, I nodded in approval. "It's a pretty name. I imagine she lives up to it." To me it seems nonsensical to compliment someone on their girlfriend, especially if you've never met or seen said girlfriend, but you know what? Social niceties and all that… I stopped trying to make sense of people a long time ago.

"Yeah, she does." Sam agreed wholeheartedly.

I opened my mouth to say something again (I would figure out what it was as the words came out) but was interrupted by the phones going off simultaneously. Sam's was a normal ringtone, the beeping, while mine was playing Avril Lavigne for my sister's text.

Sam brought his to his ear. "What?" Nice greeting. It's probably Dean…

I opened my text inbox.

_Marshal IDs didn't check out - officers about to check in. Get Sam and go AWOL. We'll deal with police. -SK_

I assumed that by "we" she meant herself and Dean. I knew it was authentic because she signed her initials; it seems stupid, because we do have caller ID, but more than anything, it's like a personal tag to make sure that we are who we say we are and not "I broke into the house/office/hotel/apartment/lab and hurt/killed your sister, then took her phone, now come here so I can hurt/kill you" lunatics.

"_Dude, 5-0, take off." _Dean's voice said over Sam's phone in the space of about five seconds.

"What about you?" Sam asked, standing up suddenly and grabbing his jacket before I could even motion to him for get up. I grabbed my wallet from the bedside table and shoved it into my pocket, before grabbing my weapons belt from a drawer and strapping it around myself, covering it up with the jacket. The belt usually and currently just had the holster for my pistol clipped to it, and another small bag for extra rounds.

"_Uh, they kinda spotted me. Go find Dad."_

I moved to the window and pushed apart the blinds. Down, outside, in the middle of the street outside the hotel, a couple of officers in uniform were heading over to Dean and Serenity, the former of whom was shoving a phone in his pocket. I turned back to Sam and moved away from the window. "We've got to get you out of here," I stated needlessly, my voice a monotone. I don't know how to feel about helping someone with identity fraud on his plate, especially not after having formed a tentative sort of friendship. _Protect the Winchesters first, find the person responsible for the crimes second, and sort out their criminalistic habits third. _"My car's at the station. We can go out the back and leg it. I hope you're up for some running. We'll get the car and we'll continue the investigation while the other two deal with the police."

* * *

><p>Dean flashed an award-winning grin at the police deputies, being Mr. Charisma again. "Problem, officers?" He adopted the slight vocal inflection typical of the local area again.<p>

"Where's your partner?" Jaffe demanded immediately, not bothering to exchange pleasantries and instead going right for the golden questions. He tipped his hat to Serenity in acknowledgment but otherwise ignored her; the Kasakabes would _never_ be involved in a fraudulent identity scam. _Oh, if only he knew what I really do with my life._ Most people figured Serenity tagged along with Holly, and seeing as the alternative could get them both tried and executed, Serenity never tried to correct the misconception.

"Partner?" Dean's smile wavered only slightly but it was clearly staged as confusion. "What partner?"

Jaffe sighed and jerked his head to the other officer, Hein, who strode off towards the motel. _Get out of there fast, Holly, _Serenity thought to herself, but kept her mouth shut. "So," he added, looking back to Dean and crossing his arms. "Fake U.S. Marshal. Fake credit cards. Have you got anything that's real?"

Dean took a long pause before doing his best at looking meek. "My boots."

Jaffe grabbed Dean's wrists and slammed him over the hood, pressing him over so he doubled and his chest pressed against the car. He had to turn his head so his cheek was pressed to metal. "You have the right to remain silent…"

* * *

><p>"So, do you want to give us your real name?" The sheriff asked authoritatively, puffing his chest out as he paced back and forth to try to look bigger and brawnier. Serenity and Dean sat in chairs next to each other across the table from him. Serenity felt only irritation towards the officers and exasperation towards the situation.<p>

"I _told _you," Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's Nugent. Ted Nugent."

The sheriff was decidedly unamused. "I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in here."

"Are we talking, like, misdemeanor trouble, or 'squeal-like-a-pig' trouble?"

Serenity raised her hand like she wanted to say something but spoke before the teacher said to. "Hey man, why don't you just let my sister deal with him and go do your Sheriffy things?"

The sheriff looked like he really, really liked that idea but he reluctantly pushed it away. "We won't bother SSA Kasakabe for a minor issue like this. Sorry, miss." He looked back to Dean and got his 'pissed-off' mojo back. "You've got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall." Dean chose this minute to look away and avoid eye contact. "Along with a bunch of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. Boy, you are officially a suspect."

"That makes sense," Dean allowed before rolling his eyes sarcastically. "Because when the first one went missing in nineteen eighty-two, I was _three._"

"I know you've got partners," the sheriff accused, not put off. "One of them's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. You've got fraud, identity theft, kidnapping of Serenity Kasakabe-"

"He really didn't kidnap me, moron."

"-And you're on suspicion of kidnapping and murder." The sheriff didn't seem to want to take Serenity's word for it. She supposed he was trying to be a hero, or maybe he thought she had Stockholm syndrome. "So tell me… Dean." Dean froze and his eyes widened slightly, his mouth slightly open. The sheriff threw a brown, leather-bound book on the table. It was thick, with pages slightly yellowing and some protruding from the rest slightly. It was either old or well-worn, possibly both. "This his?"

Dean's eyes were locked on the book. Serenity looked from Dean to the sheriff. Obviously he recognized it; somehow it had given his real name to the sheriff. _His father's? _The sheriff flipped through the pages carelessly and Serenity saw the pictures, laminations, drawings, and even tediously-written entries. _More of a field journal than a book, then. _The drawings were odd, some of them looked inhuman and others looked like mutated people. Some were feral animals and others were hard to determine what the hell they were supposed to be. He finally stopped when it came to a piece of crisp, new, white paper shoved in the middle, with a wide inked circle over the name _Dean _and the numbers 35 -111, written exactly like that. The dash was closer to the 111 than the 35, making it seem less like a combination and more like a code. _It's a message. To Dean. From their missing father. Coordinates?_

"I thought that might be your name." The sheriff continued, Dean's unwitting reaction having proved him correct. "See, I leafed through this. From what little I could make out - I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy, but I found this, too." Dean was silent for the first time since Serenity had met him. "Now, you're staying right here until you tell me exactly what the hell that means."

Dean didn't look up from the page, emotions conflicting in his eyes, and Serenity noted what had made Holly trust him - much like with Sam, Serenity could see a sort of age when she looked into his eyes that didn't match his body. He'd been through a lot of strain, like his brother, that belied the little information she already had on them. He was haunted by demons of some sort, much like she and her sister.

Well, Serenity rationalized. At least I'll have plenty of time to wonder about what mental illness plagues their family.

* * *

><p>I clutched the steering wheel tightly and glanced at the clock (5:47) while we drove down the highway. The sun was beginning to sink now. I am <em>never <em>going to sleep until lunch and then _walk _to a police station ever again, only to find that we can't go there because someone would recognize Sam now that Dean's been brought in. So then we had to walk across town to the hotel again, and the detectives had cleared out, and I went back to the station and got the keys to Dean's Impala from an evidence locker before going and getting Sam. And then we had to get gas and feed ourselves, and then Sam and I had to partner up with his laptop and my mobile hotspot app on my phone and find the address of Constance Welch's husband for some reason that Sam still hasn't told me. "This is an absolutely pointless day," I growled, driving while Sam occupied the passenger seat.

Sam turned the map in his hands slightly to the side and squinted at it. "Ah… take a right up here in about two miles. This farmland is Joseph Welch's."

"Right." I pressed down on the gas and sped up another five miles an hour. "So tell me again what we're trying to accomplish?" _Sammy, buddy, you're testing my patience. I like you without bruises on your face so please get the hint._

"It might sound kind of crazy so you have to just trust me on this," Sam said, not looking up from the map.

"I've been trusting you for more the past twenty-four hours and I'm about expended on blind trust," I warned. "What do you plan on finding out from this man?"

Sam took a deep breath, preparing himself for something, and it took him a moment. I turned right down a gravel and dust road and slowed down the car significantly so I'd get an answer before I had to park by the old farm house. "We need to find out where Constance was buried," he answered, saying it all slowly like he knew it would be kind of hard to swallow.

I blinked. "What… the _hell_… will that accomplish?"

Sam sighed. "I know you don't believe about Constance Welch haunting Centennial highway, Holly, but can you think of any other way to explain what you saw last night? What we _all _saw?"

"I… it was dark," I answered defensively. "Maybe we were drugged, or it was a trick."

"Then how do you explain the car? Dean still had the keys. No one was driving."

_I don't know what to believe anymore. _"Constance Welch is dead and there is no such thing as the supernatural."

Sam didn't try to correct me this time and so the slightly tense silence between us became more uniform during the time it took to park the car by the side of the house and get to the door. I knocked solidly and when the slightly overweight senior man, with greying hair, answered the door, I held out my FBI badge authoritatively with the power I'd gained over the years. "Joseph Welch, I'm FBI SSA Holly Kasakabe. This is my associate, Special Agent Samuel Aframian." _Might as well go all the way._

* * *

><p>The driveway's dust rose up around my feet in swirls and coated my boots. I tried not to be too irritated with it along with the senior man walking with Sam and I down the long property, answering questions compliantly. Currently, Sam was seeing if we were on the same track his father had been on, while I was debating whether or not Serenity would be able to text me back.<p>

Joseph held a picture in his hands. I tried to sneak a look at it, fitting myself in between Sam and Joseph and walking between them. It was from Sam's wallet - a photograph of his father. Doing a quick analysis, I could see the familial similarity between him and both of his sons. Scruffy dark hair and dark eyes made him seem tired and older than he probably was, but it also made him seem serious and wise.

"Yeah," Joseph decided, nodding. "He was older, but that's him." He passed the small picture back to Sam. "He came by three or four days ago. He said he was a reporter."

"That's right," Sam lied with a nod, sliding the picture back into his pocket. "We're working on a story together.

"And that story includes the FBI?" Joseph's lips curled slightly in scorn. "I don't know what the hell kind of story you're working on. The questions he asked me!"

"About your wife, Constance," I said before he could huff and continue to rant. People just… annoy me sometimes. I don't want to give him the chance to shorten my temper any more. "Yes, I'm aware. Whether or not the FBI is involved is hardly your concern. I'd like you to recount the questions asked and your answers, if you don't mind." Which, in FBI-speak, is code for "do it and be honest or I'll arrest you."

"He asked me where she was buried," Joseph deadpanned.

I reached the hood of an old, blue Mustang. I turned around so I leaned against the side of the car, reaching behind me to brace myself on the car. Facing the men, I could see the reactions fly across their faces, which worked well for me. "And where is that?"

"What, I have to go through this twice?" Joseph complained, snorting derisively.

"Fact-checking," I answered shortly.

Joseph sighed and looked up to the darkening sky before looking back down. I detected a myriad of emotions - mainly, irritation, grief, and pain. "In a plot," he answered wearily. "Behind my old place over on Breckenridge."

"Why did you move?" Sam asked softly, empathy scrawled across his face. He and Dean are unlike Serenity and I in some ways, but incredibly alike in others. Sam is like the odd one out when displaying tact and sympathy towards strangers without having any ulterior motive. Dean, Serenity, and I get that it's sad, but we probably wouldn't go out of our way to feel that.

"I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died." Yes, definitely pain and grief.

"Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?" I asked, making a mental list of the questions I'd ask in a normal interrogation, scratching off the ones I'd already gotten answers to, and filtering away the ones that were irrelevant.

"No way," Joseph denied, shaking his head emphatically. "Constance, she was the love of my life." He zoned out for a minute. "Prettiest woman I'd ever known." I barely refrained from scowling at him for that. It's great she was pretty, but that shouldn't be the first thing he remembered about her.

"And you had a happy marriage?" Sam's questions lacked the harsh or dull tone I usually used. He's probably the most likeable, sociable person I've met in a long time. He can't seem to separate himself entirely from emotions; not always an advantage, especially when you're surrounded by death, but it's by no means a bad thing.

Joseph started to nod but I caught the flicker of doubt in his eyes, and he hesitated before completing the motion. "Definitely," he lied.

Sam's smile to the man was strained in response. He must have caught it, too. "Well, that should do it. Thanks for your time." Sam turned away from the man and his feet began to carry him off to the Impala parked several yards away. I raised a hand in farewell, walking after my companion, only to nearly walk right into his back when he stopped. He mumbled an apology to me as he turned around, looking back to the late Welch's husband. "Mr. Welch, did you ever hear of a woman in white?" He asked curiously, eyes searching the other man for a response.

If Serenity were here, she would have laughed at my reaction. I slammed my palm against my forehead. "Oh God."

Sam ignored that so well I might have believed he didn't hear it to begin with. Joseph narrowed his eyes at Sam like he was wondering if Sam was insane - honestly enough, I don't feel that certain he's not. "A _what_?"

"Don't do it, Sam. Let's go. We have what we need." I chased after him and it was a struggle not to grab his ear and drag him to the Impala by force.

Once again, Sam inflicted himself with selective deafness. "A woman in white," he reiterated. "Or sometimes a weeping woman?"

The man just stared blankly while I groaned and covered my face with my hands, kicking my toes into the dirt.

"It's a ghost story," Sam started to explain, slipping his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. "Well… it's more of a phenomenon, really." Still, no reaction. "Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years in dozens of places. Usually in Hawaii, Mexico - lately some in Arizona, Indiana. All of these are different women, you understand," he added quickly. "But all share the same story."

Joseph tried to stare down Sam. "Boy, I don't care much for nonsense," he warned.

"Right. Yes. Exactly. Come along, Sammy," I tried again. I had a feeling it was futile.

Joseph rolled his eyes and turned to walk away, but Sam stayed in place and called after him. "See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them." This made Joseph stop frozen in his steps but he remained facing away. I raised my eyebrows at the reaction. "And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children."

His shoulders squared up around his neck and I crossed my arms, moving slowly to stand at Sam's side. "Did that hit a nerve?" I challenged at his tensity. _Guilt._ "It's a well-known urban legend." _Might as well go for it. _If I don't appear at least a bit in control, then I lose my authority. "They realize they've killed their children and their husband doesn't love them as much as they thought, so they commit suicide."

"So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads and waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again." He finished on possibly the most ominous note he could.

The realization dawned on Joseph slowly but his face contorted angrily. "You think that has something to do with - with Constance? You smartass!"

"Thank you," I replied automatically with a smirk.

"You tell me," Sam answered, shooting me a look for about half a second.

His face crumpled but he remained frustrated and angered at the insinuations. "I mean, maybe… maybe I made some mistakes," he admitted grudgingly. "But no matter what I did, Constance never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here!" He stepped over like he expected us to jump back in fear. "And don't you come back!"

* * *

><p>"What now?" I asked Sam, pulling the car away from the diner. The darkness outside was cut sharply by the headlights of the Impala. Now, I'm not a car person, but even I have to admit that Dean has an awesome vehicle.<p>

"Ah, back towards Jericho," Sam guessed, disheartened. "Have either of them texted you?"

I shook my head. "No, which means they're probably still in custody. They should be out by now." I glanced at the clock; 9:21. "Does this happen to you two often? I mean, Christ, I've witnessed fraud, identity theft, credit card scams, and falsifications, all in the last twenty-four hours."

Sam looked over to me from the passenger seat and gave me a tentative, meek smile. "Probably a lot more than it should."

I laughed and sped up since there was practically no one on the road. "Alright. I'm going to give them a way out." I glanced over to him. "Give me your phone."

"What?" Even as he asked, he leaned to the side and started digging in his pocket before slipping his mobile into my hand.

I dialed the 9-1-1 hotline and held it to my ear, using the other hand to keep the steering wheel in line. "_9-1-1, what's your emergency?"_

I raised my voice and made myself sound panicked, stuttering and pitching my voice up so it was unrecognizable. "O-Oh God, you h-have to help!" Sam turned to watch me with wide eyes of shock. "Someone's f-firing out sh- gunshots!"

The operator's voice was calm and soothing. "_Alright, please just calm down. Where are you and what's your name?"_

I took deep breaths, half hyperventilating, and made sure the person on the other line could hear. "M-my name is April. I'm at Whiteford R-Road, in J-Jericho, Cali."

"_Okay, April, stay calm. Get somewhere safe. We're sending people out now."_

I snapped the phone shut and effectively ended the call before passing it back over to Sam. "There. If your brother's half as experienced as you say he is, he'll get out even if Serenity's not with him. It's a small police force, they'll be left unguarded while they check out the call."

The look Sam was giving me now had a touch of appreciation and I cast a smile at him. "That… was illegal," he pointed out.

"It certainly was," I agreed.

* * *

><p>Dean sighed and crossed his arms, leaning back in the plastic chair. "I don't know how many times I've got to tell you," he told the police sheriff, aggravated. "It's my high school locker combo!"<p>

Serenity sighed and covered her face with her hands boredly. "This is the third time we've done this," she complained.

"Apologies, Miss Kasakabe, but we've gotta do this." The sheriff nodded to her apologetically before going back to glaring at Dean. "We gonna do this all night long?" He demanded.

One of the other officers knocked. All three of the room's occupants looked over to see who it was as the door was pushed open. A head leaned in and locked eyes with the sheriff. "We just got a 9-1-1, of shots fired over at Whiteford Road." Serenity tried to figure out where that was based on the maps she'd seen; it was around ten miles away from the police station.

The sheriff pondered that for a moment before looking over at Dean. "You have to go to the bathroom?" He asked, reaching behind him. Serenity heard the clink of handcuffs.

Dean turned his hands up uselessly. "No."

"Good." The sheriff slammed the handcuffs down over his wrist and chained him to the chair before straightening his belt, nodding to Serenity and saying she was free to go, and leaving in a hurry to respond to the call.

Serenity waited a long moment until she couldn't hear any footsteps, and a door closed. She looked over at Dean and smirked. "Are you any good at picking locks?"

Dean looked away from her with a roll of his eyes. Once he realized she wasn't joking, his eyebrows shot up and he looked back at her with a smirk large enough to match his enormous ego. "I'm a professional," he boasted.

Serenity reached over to Dean's father's journal and pulled a paperclip from where it was slid onto one of the papers. She flipped it onto the desk and then pushed it towards him with her fingertips. "Great. You pick that lock and I'll go hotwire a car."

* * *

><p>My phone rang at 9:28 and I listened to the ringtone for a moment. <em>And that's why I smile! It's been a while since every day and everything has felt this right and now, you turn it all around, and suddenly you're all- <em>I interrupted it by flipping it up. "Serenity."

"_A fake gunshot report?" _I heard Serenity's smirk from over the phone and she sounded amused. "_Nellie, that seems pretty illegal."_

"Legal is boring," I stated flippantly. "You're welcome, by the way."

There was a pause from Serenity and in the background I heard the murmur of Dean's voice. She came back a minute later. "Hey, switch it to speakerphone. Dean wants to talk to Sam and we wanna hear, too."

"Got it." I held it away and hit the button, then held it out between Sam and I. "You're on."

"_Listen, we've got to talk," _Dean said over the line abruptly.

"Well, hello to you, too," I grumbled.

"Tell me about it," Sam agreed with me, rolling his eyes. "So, the husband _was _unfaithful. We _are _dealing with a woman in white."

"_Oh, God, you're still on the whole ghost thing?" _I could hear the scorn in Serenity's voice and the dull thud of someone getting hit. Poor Dean. Serenity really packs a punch.

"We had to tell Joseph Welch all about the woman in white legend," I told her in equal exasperation. "Seriously, Dean, Sammy, are you investigating or are you Ghostbusting?"

"_A little bit of this, a little bit of that," _Dean answered breezily. "_Where was she buried?"_

"Behind her old house," Sam responded. "That should have been Dad's next stop." He shook his head and sighed, looking to the side and covering his face with his hand in stress. "I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet."

"_Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho."_

Sam's eyes went wide. "What? How do you know?"

"_I've got his journal."_

"_It's full of insanity," _Serenity reported to me between the boys' sentences. "_Supernatural theories and legends and whatnot. Tell you what, though, he's not a half bad sketcher."_

"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing."

"_Yeah, well, he did this time."_

Sam hesitated for only a moment. "What's it say?"

Dean made a noise of discontent. "_Ah, the same old ex-marine crap when he wants to let us know where he's going."_

"Coordinates." Sam nodded in understanding. "Where to?"

"_I'm not sure yet."_

"Should we interrupt soon?" I asked my sister skeptically.

"_Let's let them have their fun."_

Sam looked out the window, trying not to snap or get aggravated. "I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean… what the hell is going on?"

I looked up into the rearview mirror. We were still alone on the stretch of road. I opened my mouth to yawn and lowered my eyes back down to the road and saw a slightly glowing figure. I yelled out in panic and slammed my foot down on the brake. Hearing my shout, Sam looked up and dropped the phone in surprise. The car skidded and Sam and I lurched forward, but we still didn't stop in time. The hood of the car plowed right through the woman - wearing the long white dress waving in a nonexistent wind with long matted hair - but she vanished right as the car hit. I didn't hear anything hit.

"What the hell!" I screamed. For a moment I just sat in the car, my chest heaving as I tried to calm down. I looked over at Sam in question, because how was there no impact?! He was looking right back at me and he was having just as much trouble breathing.

My entire body was taut like the strings stretched tight over a violin. I'd say I was sleep deprived, except I slept in and I've never had a hallucination like that before, and Sam clearly saw it, too.

"What was that?" I breathed.

"Take me home."

The woman's voice made me stop breathing and I looked up to the rearview mirror fast enough to give me whiplash. There was no one there.

"Sam." I started to say, my voice rasping in strain. "Did you hear something?"

"Yeah." He replied, his fingers digging into the upholstery. "Yes, I did."

My hands fell off of the steering wheel and I gathered up my courage to whirl around to face the back seat. _The woman from Sylvania bridge and the woman who had come onto the road out of nowhere was seated in the back of the Impala._

I looked back to the mirror. No one was there. I looked back, breathing heavily. _What's going on? _It's impossible for her to be there and not have a reflection! "Who the hell are you?" I demanded.

Constance tilted her head at me coolly, not seeming to understand what I'd said, and she passively stared into my eyes. Blue met a brown so dark it could have been black and I felt a chill run through me as the temperature dropped.

"Take me home."


	3. Supernatural: Supernatural

"Take me home!" Constance asked again, her voice sharper and more menacing.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, biting my lip for a moment before I answered with one word: "No."

I opened my eyes and looked behind me. Constance was glaring at me and the chill rushed up my arms. I looked back to the steering wheel, ready to calmly get out of the car, but as I reached for the door handle, the locking mechanisms on every door slammed down and locked. My pulse sped up and I heard my heartbeat in my ears. I reached to the lock and tried to pull it up but it was like it was jammed.

I twisted back to the steering wheel and started to pull it to the left to turn around and go back, but I could not turn it for the world. The engine roared for a moment as the car warmed up again before beginning to move, the speedometer at about forty.

I slammed myself back against the seat and watched the headlights illuminate the road as we passed, going along Centennial painfully slowly. I was absolutely terrified and was trying to remember how to breathe properly. She wasn't there, and then she was, and then she wasn't, and then she was _in the car, _and now the car is _moving _and it's _locked and driving itself._

I dug my nails into the upholstery until the muscles in my fingers and hands were beginning to ache, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead. I only stopped when I felt the warm hand gently settle over and clasp mine and I snapped my eyes over to Sam. He was frowning but he was trying to seem comforting. His thumb moved over the back of my hand repeatedly, trying to be soothing. "It's alright," he promised me, although he was pressed flat against his seat, too, so I'm sure he's not certain.

"Yeah." I didn't react to his touch but I didn't pull away.

"I mean it," he insisted. "She can't hurt you. One, you're a woman, and two, you're not seeing anyone. She can't kill you because you don't match the criteria."

I closed my eyes again but I had to accept that I have no idea what's going on and I'll just have to deal with it for now and take what I can get.

I flipped my hand over so the back of my hand was against the furniture and I grasped his hand, returning the comfort, and squeezed his hand tightly. He squeezed back and continued rubbing his thumb along the back of my hand.

* * *

><p>The car pulled up at the driveway of Breckenridge road and rolled up the gravel to a big, two-story, decrepit wooden house. It was literally falling apart and the porch had already fallen off and towards the ground. It looked like a stereotypical haunted house.<p>

"Don't do this," Sam whispered as the engine cut and the lights were killed.

I looked back briefly. Constance flickered slightly out of existence before flashing back. "I can never go home."

I turned back to stare at the house. "You're scared of going home. Why?" I wondered. She killed her kids in that house. Maybe it's guilt? No, that would imply she's a ghost. But what the hell? Nothing else is making sense! I have nothing to go on so why the fuck not try and grasp at straws. "Is it because of the children that drowned?"

I didn't get a reply, so I turned around again. She was no longer there. _What…?_

Sam gasped suddenly and I looked to him in alarm only to yelp and jump backwards so hard that my back slammed against the still-locked car door. The lock slammed and dug into my back and I groaned softly in pain. Constance had climbed onto Sam's lap somehow, her knees planted on either side of his thighs. She set her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back so hard that the seat was forced to recline. Sam tried to struggle, his hands trying to push her away, but she seemed not to be even slightly deterred.

"Hold me," she breathed, grasping the hem of her dress and pulling it slowly up the soft, smooth skin of her thigh. She leaned forwards until he was at eye-level with her breasts and purred into his ear. "I'm so cold."

"You can't kill me," Sam gasped, the hair on the back of his neck standing up like he was cold. "I'm not unfaithful. I've never been!"

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his jaw. "You will be…" she pressed her hips into his stomach and her mouth moved up towards his ear as she managed to get the dress nearly up to her hips. "Just hold me."

"Dear God," I breathed, pressed to the door as closely as I could get. "What the hell!"

Constance lowered herself again and forced her lips to Sam's while he stretched out, trying desperately to force her away from him, and this forced me into action. She kissed him, and it could be interpreted as him kissing her, and he has a girlfriend, and he said that the women in white kill unfaithful men. I lurched forward, the steering wheel driving into my side and pushed at the woman. She didn't budge.

But she did acknowledge it. She broke off the nonconsensual kiss and turned on me, leaning towards me while Sam gasped for breath, and her face flashed as she disappeared, snarling at me. My eyes widened as I caught a glimpse of a monster under the skin - a bony skull with cracked, dry lips and big, sharp white teeth. The skin clinging to her face was grey and sunken and there were lines on her forehead. Her nose was sharp and pointed and her eyes were off-white and pale yellow with big black pupils. Her skin turned old and wrinkled and she looked for all the world like a supernatural witch.

Then she was gone.

"Thanks," Sam gasped, wheezing slightly.

"Yeah." I leaned back in the seat for only a moment before I felt an itch over my breasts.

A moment later the itch turned into a painful fire and I screamed out loud, my mouth opening wide and my eyes squeezing shut. My head jerked back against the headrest and I straightened my legs, hitting my shins. My back arched and I lifted my hands, gasping after I ran out of oxygen by the ear-shattering screech, and clawed at my chest desperately.

"Oh my God," Sam muttered, reaching over to me. He pulled at my sweater, ripping the zipper's prongs apart to show my blouse. I looked to my chest and saw five holes burned through my chest - shallow, but there, and slowly sinking deeper, burning through my breasts like fire. I screamed again, clenching my fists and ignoring how my own blood made my fingers slide over my palms.

I opened my eyes again and saw the monster looming over me, her knees planted beside my thighs, one hand on my shoulder and pressing me down while the other hand was digging into my chest, her long, skeletal fingers matching the holes being burned into my flesh. She snarled, leaning over me and still looking like a witch (no wonder she looks like a normal woman most of the time. If she looked like this all of the time, no one would want to screw her) with her putrid breath in my face.

I screamed again at the top of my lungs as more blood made my shirt cold and cling to me, coloring the color of my green blouse into a sort of dark purple. In some corner of my mind I considered exactly why she was trying to force her fire-knife-fingers through me and I seized, pushing back. _She's going for my heart._

Noises and bangs like gunshots echoed in my ears. I felt dizzy with pain and wondered if I was about to go into shock but the noises got louder and I swatted at the ghost's arm, trying to get her to let me go. _Christ, woman, I know I stopped you from getting ghost-shagged or whatever, but that's no reason to go all mythological-Daeva on me._

_"__Get the hell off of my sister!" _The gunshots multiplied in number and the window of the driver's side of the Impala shattered. The fingers stopped sinking deeper and I gasped desperately as the monster leered at Serenity - it has to be Serenity, because it's her voice yelling angrily. She disappeared but I still felt the fire so I knew she hadn't really gone away.

"Still-!" I gasped. It wasn't very loud, but Sam heard and as the gunshots paused, he shouted over me.

"Keep shooting!" He ordered, pulling at the lock on his door. It didn't give.

"Hey, get off of her!" I heard someone else shout, a male voice that sounded incredibly familiar. _Dean's here too, then._

The gunshots started again and the monster came back, baring her teeth. I grit my teeth and grabbed her hand, trying to pull her wrist up. Her fingernails had nearly completely disappeared into my flesh and that really does not bode too well for me. She seemed to have a nearly superhuman strength.

_I'm not even sure what's happening anymore._

Finally, she flickered off and the feeling that someone was trying to set me on fire stopped, although the holes burnt in my skin still felt like hell and oozed blood. I gasped, because even though it wasn't fun it was a great deal less painful.

_I can never go home._

I forced myself to sit up, ignoring the screaming protest of my body, and grasped the steering wheel tightly until my knuckles turn white and I stared straight ahead at the run-down house in determination. "I'm taking you home, bitch," I snarled, slamming the gas. The car lurched forward and sped at an accelerating speed into the house and crashed through the wall. _Doors are overrated, anyway._

Planks and furniture crashed and fell but nothing was too in place to fall very out of place anymore. I hit the brake once we were through the house and lurched forwards, crashing into the steering wheel.

Dean and Serenity both ran in through the wreckage and Serenity went to Sam's side of the car. I raised my hand to my chest and pulled my hand back when I felt the warm, sticky blood. "Fuck… Serenity, I need a doctor," I stated, eyeing the blood on my hands and trying to distance myself from it.

Serenity pulled the door open with a great effort and pulled at Sam's arm to get him to get out. "You're the closest we've got, smart one." I don't have an M.D., but I am educated enough for emergency aid and I know biology and anatomy well enough to serve as a doctor in emergencies. I've tended to my sister dozens of times when she gets hurt, but can't go to a hospital because it was on mafia business.

"But I can't treat myself… conflict of interest."

"Your interests are just going to be conflicted then, aren't they?"

Dean reached up to set his gun on top of the car and then pulled his sleeve down, knocking the rest of the glass shards out of the window. "Damn, Holly," he muttered, grimly surprised. "What did you do to piss her off?" His annoyance wasn't at me, I figured, because he reached through the window and grasped my upper arms, pulling me until I was sitting up.

"I wouldn't let her kill Sammy," I replied, grimacing and pushing myself up. I reached out to Dean's shoulders and his hands moved to my sides. I pushed against the seat and he lifted me out through the window.

"Thanks for that, by the way," Sam said from the other side of the car.

"Oh, yeah, no problem. It's my job. Literally."

"Why do you need a doctor, then?"

"That monster tried to rip my heart out. What a bitch."

"Oh… Nice. Well, at least it's unoriginal to do it while the victim's alive and in a car."

I rolled my eyes and stumbled slightly, lowering my feet to the ground. "Well, as long as I'm being killed in an original way," I commented sarcastically.

"Hey. Look." Dean nodded his head toward the staircase and he turned to face it, stepping slightly in front of me. I watched over his shoulder as Constance - back in her normal, human appearance - held a large framed photo delicately. I lifted a hand to cover the holes in my chest and moved closer to Dean.

"What is she? How is she doing this?" Serenity asked Sam as they moved along the hood of the car and joined us at the side.

"She's a spirit," Sam answered vaguely.

Constance looked over at the word 'spirit,' before throwing the framed photograph down onto the ground. The glass shattered and I flinched involuntarily at the cold, chilling look she threw at the four of us.

A bureau was pressed against a wall and with absolutely no warning, it was no longer pressed against the wall. It moved at us like it was weightless. Sam and Dean moved fluidly like they had half-expected this, and they pressed Serenity and I against the car and held their hands out like they were going to stop the dresser's approach. They ended up getting backed up, too, and the dresser pinned us against the Impala.

I grimaced uncomfortably. "Damn it, bitch, haven't you done enough harm?!" Who knows how many other people she's tried to rip the hearts out of. And they probably didn't have Serenity and Dean to come save the day.

The headlights of the car flickered as Constance started toward us. Her image flickered into that of the monster again. I looked back to the Impala and bit my lip, trapped. Terrified, I bent my head and closed my eyes tightly.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

I looked up and opened my eyes. It sounded like running water. "Serenity?" I asked softly, seeing Constance having frozen in her tracks. She looked up slowly and to the staircase.

"I don't know," she answered, reaching forward and taking my hand.

The water changed from a drip. It sounded more like a sink now. I followed where Constance was looking and ended up watching the staircase. Water was trickling down the side of the staircase from the top landing. Two dark silhouettes stood together, short and standing side-by-side. One wore a dress and a doll dragged on the floor from her hand. _The children._

They spoke at the same time. "You've come home to us, Mommy," they said in complete synchronization.

Constance frowned and looked away in grief. In the blink of an eye, the shady figures at the top of the stairs had moved to stand in front of Constance and they were clearly young kids, a brother and a sister. They stepped forward at once, wrapping their unlinked arms around the ghostly woman.

Constance tipped her head back until her neck was completely bared and the shrill screech echoed through what remained of the house. It was nothing like my earlier screams. Mine had sounded human. Hers sounded unearthly - shrill, like white noise, but loud and violent, and her image flickered again while the children refused to move back.

"What the hell!" Serenity yelled over the noise.

It was like a massive electricity surge ran up and down her form, the light blue racing over her while she sort of shrank. It hurt my eyes to watch but I couldn't look away as both she and the children seemed to explode into water that splashed noisily onto the floor and then seemed to get absorbed by the floorboards.

"So that was Constance Welch?" I asked faintly, my voice sounding distant and quiet. _I don't understand. I need to understand. _I need to be able to explain what happened - but there _is_ no explanation that doesn't involve that actually being a monster or demon or ghost or whatever. There is no way we all hallucinated that and the proof that it was real is right there on my chest - the five shallow holes in my flesh are demanding my attention rather insistently.

Dean pushed at the bureau, huffing in exertion, and it slid and scratched at the floorboards. It loosened up and I inched to the side, more able to move. "Yes. It was her spirit, anyway," he answered, his voice strained due to pushing the dresser.

"So this must be where she drowned her kids," Serenity figured, helping to push the dresser further from the car. Dean stepped out of the gap and then grabbed my hand, pulling me out from between the two inanimate objects. Unlike most people I've had help me, he didn't seem too bothered by the blood on my hands.

"That's why she kept telling Sam and I that she could never go home," I sighed. "She didn't want to face the children."

"You found her weak spot." Dean noted, rubbing my shoulder in praise.

"Nice job, Nellie," Serenity allowed with a smile as she and Sam moved around the car to their seats.

I chuckled. "What were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face?"

"Well it worked, didn't it? Besides, I'm not the one who drove into a house!" She retorted, before her eyes softened in concern. "Holly, you're covered in blood. Take off your sweater. Dean, tie the sweater around her back to put pressure on it. Are you wounds deep?"

I considered for a moment. "Maybe a centimeter, maybe a little deeper?" I grimaced and stuck my tongue out unhappily. "Still, could be worse. Not too deep. I don't need to go to the hospital. How would I explain that a weaponless ghost managed to push their fingers through my skin to rip out my heart?" I scoffed. "No, I'll just worry about stopping blood flow, sterilization, and bandaging."

"Okay." Dean yanked open one of the car doors and held it open, motioning for me to get in back. "We're about ready to leave the town. We'll hit the road and get to a gas station, and as soon as we find one and we can fix you up."

"Alright." I got into the car and looked around the decrepit house. "So… that's really it? The homicides we were investigating, it was all done by Constance Welch's ghost?"

"I know it seems hard to believe," Sam answered, getting in the passenger's seat of the Impala. "I really understand that. But you've seen the proof that the supernatural exists now. I'm sorry you've been shoved into it. But yes, that was the murderous ghost of a woman long dead."

* * *

><p>"Has the bleeding stopped yet?" Serenity asked me hopefully. The way we work is kind of complicated; we <em>hate <em>being babied by each other, but we also look out for each other. If one of us gets shot, then the other will probably say "I told you so" or something crude like that, but internally we're either freaking out because our sister is in danger or freaking out because out sister could have died.

"Yeah. I think so." I put a hand over my new blouse, which was completely blood-free, and covered up the bandages on my chest. "But I'll tell you what, if another ghost tries to rip my heart out while I'm alive, I'm going to throw rosaries and water and salt at it until it pins my arms down."

Dean chuckled from up front in the driver's seat. His headlights lit up the sign that said we were five miles from Palo Alto (where Stanford, Sam's college, is) and he switched into the exit lane. "Rosaries involve incantations and water has to be blessed and holy," he corrected me.

I rolled my eyes. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about having the reality about the supernatural shoved down my throat, because it hasn't quite finished processing yet, but I know that when it does, I am going to probably freak out and have an identity crisis or something like that. In the meantime, I'm just sort of rolling with it. My mind is demanding that I find some sort of explanation for it rather than it just _being _there, so I need to understand it, which means staying with it. Besides, if Dean and Sam hadn't been there, then even when I didn't know ghosts existed, Constance Welch's spirit would have killed me torturously. I'll be safer if I know about it and if I can protect myself, I can also protect others and be _better _at my job.

Sam had a map laid out across his lap and he marked something with a pen. "Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

"Sounds charming," Dean commented.

"Actually, it's a sort of rural town with a lot of wilderness," Serenity said informatively.

"Even better. Less people. How far?"

Sam looked up from the map and his hands moved to start folding it up. "About six hundred miles."

Dean grinned. "Hey, if we go all night at eighty we could make it by morning!"

Sam looked over to Dean with a frown and he opened his mouth, stopped himself, and then seemed to go over what he could say very carefully. "Dean… I…"

Dean looked over at Sam briefly and then looked back to the road. His shoulder slumped and he seemed to visibly deflate. "You're not going," he realized.

Sam shrugged his shoulders slightly. He was bothered by his brother's disappointment, but he didn't want to go to Blackwater Ridge. "The school interview's in, like, ten hours. I have to be there."

"Yeah." Dean agreed noncommittally and stared at the road. "Yeah, whatever." He was trying to pretend that it didn't bother him. Serenity and I shared a look - we knew better. "I'll take you home."

* * *

><p>Sam leaned in through the window. "Call me if you find him?" He asked Dean hopefully. Dean nodded his promise and Sam looked back to Serenity and I. "I hope I'll see you both soon. Don't take any more ghosts home, though." I smiled in turn, getting the joke from when I'd driven into the house and Dean and Serenity hadn't heard me state that I was "taking you home, bitch."<p>

"That's a promise," I agreed, waving cheerfully.

Sam nodded to Serenity and he offered her a wave. "See you later, Serenity."

"See you, Sam."

Sam pulled himself out of the window and hit the top of the car lightly twice before turning away. Dean managed to wait until he got a couple of feet away before he leaned towards the passenger's side with a hopeful expression. "Sam?"

Sam turned from the two-story house in silent acknowledgment and watched Dean inquisitively.

"You know, we made a hell of a team back there," Dean ventured.

Sam smiled sadly and nodded. "Yeah." He didn't move to come back to the car and Dean sighed, leaning back in his seat again, last-ditch attempt having failed.

We watched Sam disappear into the house and I sighed. To be honest, I'll miss Sammy. You'd be surprised how much of a bond you get when you nearly die with someone.

"Where to, ladies?" Dean asked, setting the car into the drive shift. "Blackwater Ridge, or do you want a lift somewhere else?"

"I'm all for going to Colorado," Serenity answered eagerly, leaning forwards to see Dean with an excited grin on her face. "I want to learn more about these supernatural things, if they really do exist."

I glanced over to Sam's house again but paused. Two lights switched on through the windows at once; one was downstairs, and one was upstairs. _Sam can't be in two places at once. _Cold gripped my heart and my hand snapped down to unbuckle my seatbelt. "Something's wrong."

I threw the seatbelt off and opened the car door, sliding out. Serenity reached for her belt. "What do you mean, something's wrong?" She looked to the house in alarm. Even if she didn't see the same thing I did, we both know that if one of us gets a bad feeling, then something bad's probably going on.

I slammed the car door behind me and ran around the car and to the driveway. I heard Serenity's door close behind her. "Something's wrong, someone else is in the house, they were waiting for Sam to get home." I know he lives with Jessica, his girlfriend, but the lights turning on at the same time just seemed wrong. What are the odds?

I didn't knock on the door, just turned the handle and stepped in, yelling for Sam. "Sam, something's wrong here! Someone's in the house! Come out!"

I stepped through the foyer and into the living room. The light above the stairs was turned on; the stairs were carpeted in blue. I looked around, taking things in quickly. The house was small but comfy and the TV was turned on, but only static was playing. _Something knocked out the cable connection… _The kitchen light was flickering to the left.

At that moment, I heard Sam scream from upstairs.

"Sam!" Serenity shouted, barreling towards the stairs. I followed hot on her heels and we went up to the second story. Only one of the doors was open and the light was on.

I grimaced. "It smells like gas!" I called, following Serenity into what must be a bedroom, judging by the bed, dresser, and desk. Sam was lying on his back on the bed but had his elbows under him and staring up at the ceiling in horror, screaming again.

"Oh my fucking God!" Serenity yelled. "What the hell?!"

I looked up, not sure I wanted to see what was on the ceiling. A tall blonde girl in a white nightgown was pressed to the ceiling tightly. My eyes widened. "Huh…?" Her arms were pinned to her side and her mouth was open in a silent scream, and her blonde curls fanned around her head like a halo. One of her legs was extended but the other was bent up painfully, like when you kneel and then lay on your back without straightening your legs. A large red gash was cut through her dress and dripped blood onto the bed. Sam had several drops of blood on his forehead.

_Oh dear God._

_It still smells like gas._

Right as I thought the last phrase, a hellish fire seemed to explode from the girl's body and fanned out around her, covering the whole ceiling and inching down the walls. The fire looked like a sort of special effect rather than an actual threat, but the heat that washed over me suggested otherwise. It glowed yellow, red, and orange and the girl's pale skin, flushed with a lack of blood, charred and turn hot pink and blackened.

"Sam, get up!" Serenity ran to the bed, snapping into action, and grasped Sam's arm. He scrambled off of the bed right as the bedframe burst into flames. "We need to get out!"

* * *

><p>I shrugged the orange shock blanket off and stepped away from the fire engine. None of the firefighters noticed me; they were too busy trying to get the fire quelled as the last of the bright hues died from the windows.<p>

I snuck off to the Impala parked across the street. Serenity, Dean, and Sam stood around the trunk and Serenity looked like a kid on Christmas for a moment. Looking in, I saw the hidden compartment in the car was filled with weapons - knives, a hatchet, guns, ammunition, canteens and flasks, rosaries, crosses, religious necklaces, and a couple of other miscellaneous armory. Looks like they have their own supernatural Ghostbusting kit.

Sam reached up to slam the trunk. "We've got work to do."


	4. Wendigo: Camping is Dangerous

_**The Road So Far...**_

_ "__SSA Holly Kasakabe."_

_ "__Serenity Kasakabe."_

_ "__I'm Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam."_

_ "__Our dad's gone out on a hunting trip and he hasn't called in a few days."_

_ "__This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial Highway, like, decades ago. Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well… they disappear forever."_

_ "__Is your dad in an occult or something? Salt and cats-eye shells."_

_ "__Constance Welch. She's a woman in white."_

_ "__Constance Welch is dead and there is no such thing as the supernatural."_

_ "__She's a spirit."_

_ "__I know it seems hard to believe. I really understand that. But you've seen the proof that the supernatural exists now. I'm sorry you've been shoved into it. But yes, that was the murderous ghost of a woman long dead."_

_ "__Something's wrong, someone else is in the house, they were waiting for Sam to get home."_

_ "__We've got work to do."_

_**Now...**_

"Well I'm hot blooded, check it and see! I've got a fever of a hundred and three!" I sang loudly in the passenger's seat of the Impala, grinning like an idiot with the radio up loud. Dean was singing with me, nodding to the music and smiling. Sam wasn't too bothered by the noise, seeing a he was unconscious, but Serenity was sulking in the back with Sam, not really liking the song.

"I will seriously never understand your obsession with this song," Serenity grumbled, crossing her arms and staring out the window as the sun rose. I had tried to sleep; for a couple of hours, I drove while Dean slept and then we reversed, and Serenity and I had woken up about an hour ago when the sun became too bright.

"Come on baby, do you do more than dance!" Dean belted out, smirking over at me in reply to Serenity's complaint.

"I'm hot blooded, hot blooded!" I grinned back at him. I could already tell that, now that I know for sure that no, the boys aren't crazy, Serenity and I are going to get along great with the Winchester siblings. "You don't have to read my mind to know what I have in mind!"

Serenity groaned loudly, despite that Sam was still sleeping. He'd probably wake up from the sunlight sooner, anyway, so I wasn't too inclined to lower my voice. "Dean, Holly, get a room."

"Bitch," I retorted, crossing my arms.

"Slut." She was quick to reply. We throw insults around a lot but we don't mean to offend each other. That's why, while she sometimes calls me a slut or whore (not often to begin with), I never reply in kind. That insult bothers her a lot more than it does me.

"Now you move so fine, let me lay it on the line!"

Sam groaned softly from the backseat as he woke up. "Ugh… where are we?"

Dean looked up at his younger brother in the rearview mirror. "We are just outside of Grand Junction," he announced, before joining in with Foreigner again. "We can make a secret rendezvous," he sang, winking at me.

Serenity groaned and threw her head back against the backseat. She lifted her hands to cover her face. "My _God_, this car is stifling. If the radio plays any more Foreigner today I think I'll be sick," she threatened.

Sam didn't seem to react to the innuendo and flirting going on up front and I heard some rustling as paper unfolded - probably the travel map he'd grabbed at the last rest stop when we'd stopped for gas. We just so happened to 'suggest' that Dean stop at a gas station with a Dairy Queen. "You know what? Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon…"

"Sam," I started, but paused. I need to understand that his girlfriend died, was murdered by some supernatural force that was much more malevolent than the one that had nearly killed me. And judging on both his and Dean's reactions, they recognize the M.O., which means there's probably a backstory that I'm not aware of. "Look," I started again, changing tactics. "Whatever happened is serious. Even I can tell that. Your behavior suggests it's happened before, so if you couldn't exorcise it or whatever the first time, you'll probably need all the help you can get. Serenity and I are great friends, but we don't know how to exorcise a ghost or kill a demon or whatever else there is that I'm missing. Finding your father should take precedence, and then you can hunt around for Jessica's killer and take it down.

"In the meantime," I said, speaking faster and choosing my words less deliberately. I feel like I've gotten the main point across. "I've sent out a BOLO for John Winchester's automobile and any registered under his name. I don't know if it'll come to anything, but it should help, and I have the police in Palo Alto conducting a full investigation working under the assumption of murder rather than house fire."

"I sent a memo," Serenity added helpfully. "I have some people who will keep watch around your house in Stanford. There's always a chance that whatever that was will come back, so… might as well be prepared, just in case, right?" And by that, she means that she has people watching, ready to kill if need be. Of course, she can't very well say that. We all have secrets. The Winchesters and the Kasakabes are allied; but they'll keep their family secrets until they trust us enough, and likewise, we're not about to tell them about Serenity's career of choice among other sensitive information. For now we'll work with the necessities.

Dean nodded in the front seat. "Dad disappearing and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence." _So there is a backstory. _I looked back to Serenity and she met my eyes for a minute, telling me that she noticed the same thing. "Dad will have answers," Dean added with a note of certainty. "He'll know what to do."

I looked over at him sympathetically but didn't say anything. His unwavering faith in his father was off-putting, to say the least. Having been unable to trust many people, having that note of complete assurance that someone else will have answers is foreign. Part of me wondered if Dean truly believed that or if he was trying to force himself into it so that he would feel some semblance of security.

Sam sighed from behind me and I paused, looking up to the rearview mirror curiously. "It's weird, man," Sam told Dean with a puff of frustration. "These coordinates he left us - this Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

"What about it?" Serenity asked, leaning over in the back seat. Her hair brushed over the shoulder of his oversized jacket while she tried to look at the map.

"There's nothing there!" I looked to Dean sidelong, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. "It's just woods." Sam was perplexed. "Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?"

"Maybe there's something in the woods," Serenity suggested with a shrug of her shoulders, though her tone belied the uncertainty despite the seeming carelessness. "I mean, people go camping and never come back. Sure, accidents happen, but there is the whole "no-coincidence" thing that the supernatural world seems to have going."

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding although Sam probably couldn't see. "I mean, maybe there's the spirit of a vengeful camper-" I paused and did a double-take as that escaped my lips. _What the hell am I doing with my life? _"Or maybe there's some other type of monster."

_If I didn't have the injuries to prove it, I'd say I'd gone off the deep end._

* * *

><p>I walked in front of the other three, allowing them unquestioned entry into the ranger station by the forest line. "This place is pretty remote, but hey, it's got a good tourist industry because of all the people buying camping supplies. It makes the economy big enough to support itself."<p>

I turned around to see the guys and walk backwards only to find that only Sam was still behind me. I blinked and looked over to a three-dimensional map lying out on a table for show. It was of the forest and mapped the terrain fairly accurately, getting the waterfalls, streams, coves, cliffs, and whatnot, as well as the few ranger stations scattered around through the forested area. Serenity and Dean were both standing over it on opposite sides, looking around at the forest, while Dean mostly paid attention to the immediate area around the cliff of Blackwater Ridge - the town's namesake.

"It's good to see that you all respect my authority," I commented sarcastically, a bit offended that this seems to keep happening whenever I look away. Even in Jericho, I'd closed my eyes for a minute and been talking and then when I'd opened them, they'd been across the street and paying no mind to me. "Thanks for at least listening, Sam."

"I'd respect your authority a lot more if your authority wasn't so boring," Serenity retorted, looking away from the table.

Dean roamed away from the table and looked to a glass display holding a taxidermy brown bear nearly his own height propped up on its hind legs. I moved over to the table and glanced at the front desk, still unoccupied by anyone who might question the boys' right to be here. Only Sam seemed to actually pay attention to my explanations and he peered over the grid curiously. Sam reminds me a lot of a dog - loyal to Dean despite the arguments, friendly and kind to Serenity despite the degree of uncertainty, and attentive to me when no one else is.

"See, that specific point your dad led you to is particularly isolated." I motioned over the ridge. "These canyons here make coming from or to that direction near impossible. The forest is especially dense and rough and it's a lot easier to get lost. It was a hotspot back during the gold rush, so now there are a lot of abandoned mines, which is why you have to be careful with the number of caves. Some are okay but others might have poisoned ground or wild animals further back."

"That's nice. When did you have time to become forest ranger extraordinaire?" Serenity demanded, crossing her arms skeptically.

I rolled my eyes. "A killer escaped into the woods a few years back and I helped organize a grid search. We found the guy and his intended victim with no additional casualties. I consider myself more well-versed than any of you."

"I noticed. Your arrogance is absolutely stifling." She rolled her eyes. "I'm amazed you even got through the doorway with your ego the size that it is."

"Oh, very funny!"

"Check out the size of this freaking bear!" Dean whistled, completing a full circle around the glass case.

"There's at least a dozen or more grizzlies in the area." Sam sighed and lifted his shoulders in a preempted sign of exhaustion. "It's no nature hike, that's for sure."

"Which is why we're going out there armed and prepared," I reminded them firmly, leaving no room for argument in my tone. "I don't know why your dad wants us out at Blackwater Ridge, but given what happened in Jericho there's probably not an ice cream stand."

"Although, admittedly, that _would _be awesome." Serenity grinned and held her arms up in the imitation of a sign. "Blackwater Ridge: The _Only _Forest Cliff That Serves Milkshakes For One Seventy-Nine."

I smiled but didn't agree.

A forest ranger stepped out of the back office, probably attracted by the arguing that had gone on a moment prior, and he crossed his arms, moving out from behind the front desk. "You kids aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge, by any chance?"

I smiled, recognizing the tall, built ranger in his early forties even with the boring uniform. "Ranger Wilkinson," I greeted with a pleasant smile, moving forward.

"Agent Kasakabe." He smiled in kind and shook my hand. "Great to see you again. I hear the court case went down alright?"

"Nailed the bastard with twenty to life, and being honest, probably not going to make it twenty years." He'd ended up getting shot by one of my people when he'd tried to evade capture and as a result, the tissue around his heart was weaker. Given the age and the reputation of the prison, he'd probably bite the dust before twenty years passed. I stepped away from the ranger, remembering the reason we were here to begin with, and gestured with my arm towards the boys. "That's my sister, Serenity, and Sam and Dean here are family friends."

"Yes, sir." Dean gave the nice smile he'd given me when we met and he suddenly spoke with a very slight inflection. It wasn't a big change from his own accent, but although it was very slight, it was there enough to notice. "We're environmental study majors from U.C. Boulder, just working on a paper."

Sam chuckled at the excuse but Dean went with it and raised his fist to Sam for a fist-bump. "Recycle, man!"

Wilkinson rolled his eyes and I just sighed, unimpressed. Although it might be a hard habit to break, they should learn sooner rather than later that as long as I'm with them, they don't always have to lie to authorities about their reasons. I can be surprisingly persuasive. "Bull," the ranger deadpanned.

Dean's smile fell off of his face and Sam glanced at Dean quickly.

"You're friends with that Haley girl, right?" The ranger continued, not seeming to notice the awkwardness of the bluff being called.

It took Dean only a split second to weigh the pros and cons before lying again. "Yes. Yes we are, sir."

If we weren't in company I would have face palmed.

"Well, I will tell you exactly what we told her," Wilkinson warned before continuing. "Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?"

Dean paused a moment before sheepishly shaking his head. "I guess not, sir."

Wilkinson's expression softened sympathetically. "You tell that girl to quit worrying," he ordered. "I'm sure her brother's just fine."

Dean nodded in understanding. "We will." He looked back up and smiled halfheartedly, trying to look like he was trying not to. "Well, Haley's quite a pistol, huh?"

The ranger didn't quite notice the scam and nodded in agreement. "That's putting it mildly."

Serenity looked at me with an absolute appalled expression. The look in her eyes of incredulity and disbelief rang quite clear; _how the hell do they pull this off all of the time?! _You'd think that they'd slip up and say something that's actually incorrect. Damn, they must have the best luck possible. I shrugged, not knowing the answers to her questions.

Dean made a show of hesitating before he continued with his winning, "I'm-adorable-and-everyone-loves-me" smile. "Actually, you know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit." Wilkinson raised his eyebrows at Dean like _you can't be serious. _"You know, so she could see her brother's return date."

The ranger stared at Dean, waiting for a show of a lie, and Dean just offered him a bigger smile.

* * *

><p>Serenity looked to the numbers on the side of the house. "Yep, this is the right one!" She smiled and then jumped up the steps to the porch two at a time, vaulting forwards and pounding twice on the door with her fist. I rolled my eyes, hurrying up after her, and heard the guys' heavier footsteps on the stairs behind me.<p>

Haley, Tommy, and Ben Collins are three siblings that live together in a house out of the way and sort of run-down in that area that's sort of between town and forest. So while the house isn't too fancy, it's sufficient and looks nice, with the paint kept up with an off-white trim and white coat. The only solid door is inside of the screen door facing the outside world.

A girl pulled the door back and looked at us through the screen. Using the process of elimination, I decided that she must be Haley, a twenty-one year old woman with slightly curly black hair that fell in ringlets to her shoulders and brown eyes. Adjusted well to the heat, she, unlike Serenity and I, was wearing a nice, cool outfit of baggy khakis and a white t-shirt with thin two-inch sleeves. Just seeing how she was dressed made me acutely more aware of the heat.

I made a mental note to force us to stop at Walmart and get clothes meant more for outdoorsy activities.

I forced a smile to Haley. "Haley Collins?" I asked - although I already knew the answer, I had to go through the process. She nodded almost hesitantly, looking at first Serenity, then the Winchesters. "I'm SSA Holly Kasakabe and this is my sister, Serenity."

"The guys behind us are park rangers Dean and Sam with the service," Serenity quipped helpfully. I flashed her a grateful look. I don't mind introducing everyone - most of the time I'm the best person to do so - but it's nice to not have to. It'd get old eventually. "We were sent over by Ranger Wilkinson."

"He wanted us to ask a few questions about your brother Tommy." Sam added, giving it more credibility. His voice was soft, like it usually is, but somehow he managed to get everyone to listen to him.

Haley's hand started to move towards the handle of the screen door, but she paused momentarily and looked up to us suspiciously. "Let me see some ID," she ordered.

I couldn't bring myself to even be irritated. I understood the paranoia better than most people, having been a victim of several crimes myself - kidnapping, assault, et cetera, and one time it was at the hands of someone who had claimed at first to be one of my sister's underlings. Due to our agreement – my safety for their secrecy – I hadn't suspected danger.

I flipped up the badge of my ID and reached behind me with the other hand. Dean slapped one of the fake IDs into my hand and I only blinked, not showing how annoyed I was with the fakes. I flipped that one open, too, and snuck a peek before pressing both mine and _Samuel Cole_'s identification badges to the screen.

Haley looked first at the IDs and then up to me. I gave her a small smile so I matched my picture (sort of, my hair's gotten longer and been dyed since) and waited until she nodded slightly and pulled back to swing open the door. "Come on in."

"Thanks." I walked in slowly, looking around and subconsciously finding all possible exits and then turning so my back was to the wall. The other three came in behind me and after Sam came in, Haley looked over and saw the Impala sitting innocently in the driveway.

She pointed over to it and looked to Dean. "That yours?"

Dean grinned proudly. He loves that car. "Yeah."

Haley nodded in approval. "Nice car."

Dean's stupid smile got even wider.

Haley shut the door behind her and walked past me and into the kitchen. I looked over to Serenity and shrugged, following after her. The kitchen consisted of a small counter, a sink, a refrigerator, a dishwasher, and a stovetop and oven, with a small table for four in the center. A young man, maybe a couple of years younger than twenty-two year old Sam, sat in one of the chairs and looked at a computer screen intently.

Ben Collins was dressed similarly to his sister, with baggy camouflage cargo pants and a grey t-shirt. His skin was several shades darker than Haley's but his eyes were the same color to make up for it. His hair was short and a dark, dirty blonde. Overall, he looked… surprisingly, he looked a _lot _like Connie from Attack on Titan.

Mentally, I decided that that was what I'd be calling him.

* * *

><p>"So, if Tommy's not supposed to be back yet, then how do you know there's even anything wrong?" Serenity asked, looking at her nails to occupy herself. She doesn't actually care too much about her cuticles, but I guess she's gotten bored with looking at Ben and Haley.<p>

Haley turned off the sink and set a rinsed bowl on top of a towel upside down on the countertop to dry. "He checks in every day by cell," she answered. "He emails photos and stupid little videos - but we haven't heard anything in over three days now."

I shared a look with Sam and the younger Winchester said what I was thinking. "Maybe he can't get cell reception."

"He's got a satellite phone, too," Haley said. She tried to give Sam a withering glare, but she was too distraught to manage to do that with the right results.

Dean smirked. "Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?"

Connie shook his head quickly, staring down at the keyboard of his Apple laptop. "He wouldn't do that."

Haley shut the fridge as Dean eyed Connie. The female Collins set a glass serving bowl on the center of the table, filled with apples and clementine oranges. "Our parents are gone," she explained quietly, pain and hurt flashing in her eyes. "It's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other."

Serenity and I shared a look and instantly felt a little guilty for dismissing their concern for their brother as trivia. We were in the same boat, after all.

"Can we see the pictures and videos he sent you?" I asked kindly, hoping that I could find some sort of distinctive tree or landmark or something I could use to find their campsite.

Connie nodded and clicked on one of the folders on the desktop of the computer. He waited a minute and then angled the computer towards us, pushing the screen back so we could see it while we stood.

Haley pointed to a slightly fuzzy male figure in the foreground of the photo, wearing a t-shirt and a bit of dirt on his face that I'm not sure he knew was there at the time. He had a baseball cap on but it was turned backwards, the bill facing down. In the background, another masculine body was lying on his side, back facing the phone's camera. "That's Tommy."

She clicked twice on the mouse pad and then another frame pulled up in front of the first and started into grainy motion. _"Hey Haley, day six, we're still out near Blackwater Ridge. We're fine, and keeping safe, so don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow!"_

A frown pulled down on my lips when I saw the flash. Something dark - a shadow of some sort - moved back behind the tent during the video so quickly I would have dismissed it as nothing, or even as my imagination, except when I looked at a shadier part of the screen I saw Dean frowning in the reflection.

I didn't comment.

"Well, we'll find your brother," Sam promised. "We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing."

"Then maybe I'll see you there," Haley replied sharply, slamming the fridge shut until the seal held. "Look, I can't sit around here anymore. So I hired a guy." I looked over to Serenity with a worried frown. Wouldn't our job be a bit harder with civilians to worry about, if this really was anything… supernatural? "I'm heading out in the morning and I'm gonna find Tommy myself."

"I think I know how you feel," Dean admitted, surprising me slightly.

"Do you mind forwarding these to me?" I asked, motioning to the computer so Connie knew for sure what I was talking about. "I can give you my email before we leave."

"Sure," Connie nodded, watching me with a respectful nod of his head.

* * *

><p>Glasses clinked as a waitress carried several glasses on a stainless steel round tray. Loud clicks were followed by cheers as someone shot a pool cue. The bar was absolutely packed.<p>

Sam and I sat at a table next to each other towards the back. Dean had gone to the bar about five minutes ago to get drinks and after three minutes, Serenity had gotten up to go hunt him down. Sam and I had our laptops out and were trying to find any hint of supernatural activity - basically, he was looking into the history of the town and any recent disappearances while I was taking apart Tommy Collins' video piece by piece and separating frames to find that shadow.

I looked up from my computer and caught a glimpse of the two missing parties. Dean had four half-full wine glasses in his hands and Serenity was pulling him along by his ear. I winced in sympathy for the man.

Sam spoke up as soon as they reached the table and Dean set a glass of alcohol in front of Sam and I both before sitting down on one side of the table. Serenity sat between him and Sam, completing the square. "So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic - campers, mostly. Still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found."

Dean reached for the thick leather-bound book from their dad. According to Serenity, it was a field journal full of what John Winchester had learned from his "hunts." "Any before that?" He brought the edge of his champagne glass to his lips and drank about half of the shot.

We were all forced so close that when Sam turned his computer around to show an online text of a newspaper and Serenity pushed her chair back to lean over and see, she kicked me accidentally. I scowled at her and she shrugged before we both leaned towards Dean to look at the computer screen.

"In 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year," Sam explained, raising his voice to speak over the general chaos. "Authorities said it was a grizzly attack."

"Yeah, I bet it was grisly, too." I laughed and fist-bumped Serenity for the play on words. My sister did so, but she was very reluctant to encourage the bad jokes.

"... And again in 1959 and again, before that, in 1936."

**GRIZZLY BEAR ATTACKS!**

_Up to eight hikers vanish in Lost Creek area!_

_Hikers' disappearance baffle authorities!_

_Families continue search and rescue efforts in spite of disappointing…_

"Every twenty-three years," Serenity noted, considering for a minute. "It's consistent. Like clockwork." She looked at Dean in confusion. "Is that normal for a monster?"

Dean just shrugged. "Depends on a lot of things."

I turned my laptop a bit. "Hang on, look what I found." I pushed it over to the corner so that if we turned, we could all see it well enough. "I downloaded Tommy's video and pulled it apart, and look at this." I hit one arrow key and it changed frames. The shadow crossed within three frames and by the time I hit the fourth, it was gone. I looked up and saw all of them squinting at it, the boys with confusion and Serenity with surprise.

"Do it again," Dean ordered.

I repeated the frames and then looked up again, sighing. "That was _only _three frames. It's seriously only a _fraction _of a second. Whatever that shadow was, it can _move. _I don't think that it could have been caused by anything natural." It still felt awkward talking about unnatural things quite so matter-of-factly.

"I told you something weird was going on!" Dean yelled at Sam triumphantly, a smug smirk on his place as he tried to kick Sam playfully. We were too close and he ended up kicking me.

"Hey! Damn it, Dean!" I reached over and slapped him audibly.

"Ouch," Dean grumbled, raising his hand to his face.

I reached out and gently pushed down the lid of my laptop, but Sam just turned his back to face him and held out one finger to us, telling us to wait. "One more thing - in fifty-nine, one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid… he barely crawled out of the woods alive."

Serenity raised her eyebrows in prompt. "Does it give his name?"

* * *

><p><em>I knocked rapidly three times on the wooden door and only had to wait a moment before it swung half-open. "Mr. Shaw?" I asked, holding my chin up authoritatively. "Holly Kasakabe, FBI, and park rangers Dean, Samuel, and Rue. We have some questions for you."<em>

A cigarette hung from Shaw's lips, which wasn't exactly the smartest thing for a man in his fifties to be doing. "Look, rangers." His voice was raspy - likely due to drinking. "I don't know why you're asking me about this. It's public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a-"

I cut him off swiftly in that way that I've totally perfected. "Grizzly?" I predicted his words easily, having read the reports in the car. I was surprised that after consuming a couple glasses of wine, I was still sober. Maybe it's not a good thing, but after our parents died, Serenity's and my guardian worked a lot of night shifts. When we were eleven, we discovered alcohol in the fridge and decided to try it. When we were eleven, we weren't quite aware of how dangerous alcohol could be. Anyway, since then we drink sometimes, but not often enough for it to be a problem. "That's what attacked them, right?"

Dean crossed his arms and tipped his head at the old man. "And the other people that went missing that year. Those were bear attacks, too?"

There was a moment of silence and as Shaw sat down, he looked up to Dean like he'd been stricken. He stopped and looked like he was trying to say something but the words wouldn't make it out.

"What about the people who have gone missing so far this year?" Serenity added very pointedly, crossing her arms and standing beside his chair, looking down on him skeptically.

"If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it," Sam reasoned, watching Shaw with more sympathy. He was earnest and personable.

Shaw pulled the cigarette from his mouth and puffed, a long cloud of smoke flowing up to the ceiling. "I seriously doubt that," he said, completely serious. "Anyways, I don't see what difference it would make." He stopped and shook his head, watching the floor with nearly dead eyes. "You wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did."

I looked at him carefully, more sympathetically, and had to empathize what was happening in his head. He must feel the way Sam and Dean had when they'd been trying to make Serenity and I realize they were telling the truth about the woman in white.

"Mr. Shaw." I sighed and tried to make myself look completely honest and trustworthy. It's harder than one would think. "Try us. What did you see?"

Shaw paused and looked to the side, refusing to look at any of us. "Nothing," he whispered. "It moved too fast to see. It hid too well." Serenity looked up to me and I could see the question in her eyes. I couldn't answer it. "I heard it, though. A roar, like no man or animal I'd _ever _heard."

"And it came at night?" Sam just had to double check and make sure he knew. I suppose it made sense - it could be important to narrowing down who - or _what_ - was responsible. Shaw just barely nodded. "And it got inside your tent?"

This time, the man paused before shaking his head. "It got inside our cabin," he whispered. "I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window, or break the door. It _unlocked it._" He shivered violently and cringed. "Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn't even wake up until I heard my parents screaming."

A wave of pity washed over me. What would it be like to lose your parents like that? At least Serenity and I had a rational _explanation_, one that we could actually comprehend. "It killed them?" I asked, then cleared my throat when I realized how quietly it had come out.

Shaw shook his head slowly, his eyes squeezed shut. I had to wonder if he was reliving a memory. "Dragged them off into the night. Why it left me alive… I've been asking myself that ever since." There was a long silence. Even Serenity didn't want to interrupt the clearly mourning man. "Did leave me this, though." He pulled back at his collar and looked away in shame.

Scraped deeply against the skin of his shoulder were three long, ragged, angry pink claw marks that were scarred over.

"There's something evil in those woods," he whispered weakly. "It was some sort of demon."

I stopped. _Do demons exist? Really?_

_More importantly - what have I gotten myself into this time?_

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, why am I carrying your duffel?" Dean asked, eyeing Serenity and I suspiciously.<p>

We shared a look and then Serenity chose to answer. "Because we told you to and you're a ladies' man who desperately wants to get laid."

Sam chuckled good-naturedly but was quiet enough about it to not need to be shushed as we walked through the motel hallway. "I think you just summed up Dean in one sentence," he told Serenity with a grin.

Dean rolled his eyes, scowling slightly, but he didn't try to shove our bags back at us. "Impala's out the front," I reminded Dean when he paused at an intersection. He turned left towards the main lobby.

"Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors." At the turn to more serious topics, Serenity and I shared a look before we each moved around to the opposite sides of the boys. Dean continued like nothing had changed. "If they want inside, they just go through the walls."

"So it's something that not only has physical form, but can manipulate matter - ghosts aren't corporeal, so there goes that theory." I smiled up at Dean almost tentatively, not sure whether I was right or not.

"Corporeal?" Dean repeated with a snort. "Excuse me, professor," he teased.

I elbowed him lightly in the arm. "Shut up."

"What do you think it is, then?" Serenity challenged.

Automatic doors slid open and the rush of cool night air nearly made me stop breathing for a moment before I remembered how. Sam shrugged and motioned for Serenity to exit in front of him and so she and I picked up pace and walked in front of the guys.

"The claws, the speed that it moves with… it could be a skin walker, or maybe a black dog." I blinked and sighed softly. The phrases meant little to me. "Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature, and it's corporeal."

"Corporeal? Excuse me, professor," I repeated, exactly the way that Dean had. He chuckled.

"And if it's corporeal, then we can kill it," Serenity added with a sort of grim determination. I understood for once. It's killed or hurt so many people that it's necessary, because if it were going to stop then it would have already.

I walked around the '67 car and opened the trunk for Dean casually, letting it move open. I paused a minute before eyeing the compartment but decided that I really didn't need to know what else was there when I'm already suspecting that Dean and Sam loaded weapons into their own duffel bags.

Dean moved behind me and I shuffled to the side while he slung one bag down from his shoulder and let it plunk into the trunk of his precious Impala. While he pushed that back, he lowered the other bag and tried to rearrange things so they'd fit better, and I stayed to the side so that I could press my hands against the side of the car and tip my head at him. He had an entire lifestyle that I didn't even know existed. It was fascinating and horrifying at the same time.

"We can't let Haley and _Attack on Titan_ Connie go out there," I deadpanned, just in case they'd forgotten. I'm all good with taking out the bad guys, but my priorities have to remain with protecting the good ones. And the remaining Collins siblings could very well be walking into a death trap, along with whoever they'd hired to guide them.

"_Attack on Titan_ Connie?" Sam repeated, arching his eyebrows at me like he could not believe I'd just said that.

"And what are we going to tell her?" Dean asked me, focusing more on the actual point. I met his eyes - cool and skeptical - and lifted my shoulders very slightly. "She can't go into the woods because of a big, scary monster?"

"Why not?" Sam countered. I was surprised when Sam actually nodded slowly at Dean in agreement with me.

I stopped and did a double-take. Not even a week ago, Sam had to deal with my refusal to believe in ghosts, and now he was suggesting that Haley would just believe him that a monster got her brother with a snap of his fingers and then volunteer to stay home? "Well, maybe not that, but we could say there was some sort of accident that the rangers are working to fix."

"Her brother's missing, Nel," Serenity reminded me with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. "Now maybe not all people are as awesome as we are, but if I were in her position and you were missing, I wouldn't care what the embodiments of law enforcement said, I'd go out to find you."

"So we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend," Dean concluded, picking up Serenity's bag from the ground and plunking it in next to one of the others, shoving at it to push it and the ones behind it back without jostling any of the hidden armory.

Sam's lips curled slightly in irritation and he reached up to pull down on the trunk. Dean pulled back quickly as the hood came down. "Finding Dad's not enough?" The taller boy complained. "Now we have to babysit, too?"

I was surprised, and that was putting it simply. I care for the boys, at least as friends, and I am sorry that Sam had to lose Jessica, and especially in such a horrific way. But in Jericho he'd actually dealt with Serenity and I in part so that neither of us would be killed, and it was thanks to him and Dean that I was even still alive after that ghost bitch decided that my heart wasn't needed by me anymore. It just seemed out of character for Sam _not _to care - then again, maybe the Sam I met in Jericho was him being charismatic just so that we'd have a false impression. But I really hope not.

Sam seemed to realize that we were all staring at him - myself with shock, Serenity in slight disapproval, and Dean in some nearly unreadable disappointment. "What?"

Dean shook his head, his eyes dark. "Nothing," he spat, brushing roughly against Sam's shoulder as he passed. Sam turned to watch Dean stalk off with rigid steps towards the hotel doors again with his shoulders raised in confusion.

* * *

><p>I knocked on the door to the boys' room, across from our own. It had been a decision both parties had agreed on and I had to personally think that it was probably for the best. We had two rooms - very close by, but Serenity and I bunked and had privacy for ourselves while Dean and Sam got their alone time to be without us for a while. Although I do trust them - hell, they saved my life! - I barely know them, and while it was an option to rent a suite and all stay in the same room, we all seemed to have the general idea that it was better to act as co-workers and save the excessive friendliness for a later date.<p>

It opened after a minute and while I waited I tugged at the sleeve of my sweatshirt. The door pulled open about three inches before Dean saw me, then he closed the door, undid the chain, and opened it up the rest of the way, stepping to the side.

I took the silent invitation as it was and looked around their room as I stepped inside. It was a replica of Serenity's and mine; pale green curtains drawn over an air conditioner with two beds next to each other, separated by about three feet of space and a bedside table with a double lamp. There was a small closet and both of the boys' jackets hung up on hangers, Dean's hanging haphazardly while Sam's was zipped up around the hanger. To the right was the bathrooms - the door was shut, light creeping through from under the door, and the shower was running inside. I put the pieces together and figured that, like me, Dean had taken first shower.

"Everything alright?" Dean asked, shutting the door behind me. It wasn't quiet but it wasn't loud; Sam probably didn't hear it over the water.

"Yeah." Now that I was over here, wanting to know about monsters in the forest seemed a little silly. I felt like I had when I was ten and still bothered Serenity with my constant desire for a night light. I'd known there was nothing to be afraid of except maybe tripping over my chair or a stray book or toy, but I'd still wanted to be able to see my surroundings. It's almost the same situation, except it's not the dark that I'm afraid of now. Now I know there's something there. "Serenity's showering. I got bored." Well, it's not what I meant to say, but at least it's not completely stupid.

Dean chuckled, moving away from the door and back to his backpack, a narrow but spacious black bag with two over-the-shoulder straps. It sat on the bed at an angle. I could easily tell which boy had done what in the room, because while Dean wanted things done, he wasn't as neat or organized as his younger brother.

"You won't be bored out in the woods," he promised, seeming amused.

"Well, no, probably not. If Jericho was any indication, I'll be a bit busy avoiding death," I retorted, before sighing, knowing that I was too tense and that was really uncalled for.

Dean didn't seem offended and instead his face softened. "You don't have to go out with us. Your job is to protect against the living killers. You can leave the hunting for the hunters. It's more dangerous than you'd think."

I didn't bat an eyelash at this, having sort of figured that out already. "I could argue that ignorance is most certainly not bliss, as I so aptly proved." I sighed and looked over at Sam's immaculate, untouched bed. It was better than looking at Dean's and wondering what was in the backpack. "There are plenty of people who can beat the human killers. And I'm not saying I'm giving up on that, because it might be frustrating as hell but it's worth it. But… something tells me that the supernatural can do a lot more damage, and there aren't as many people watching out for that."

Dean nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. "I can't say you're wrong about that," he had to agree. "And yeah, if Sammy and I hadn't been there, you'd have been dead."

I fixed him with an unamused raise of my eyebrow.

"But," he continued quickly, seeing the look. "Once you start hunting, you'll know you're never fully safe again." I bit at the inside of my lip. Was it too much to admit I already felt that way? There are just too many variables in life and too many loopholes through seemingly infallible plans. "Listen, if you want to hunt with us, Sam and I won't stop you. Hell, we could probably do with the company. But you should know you can back out."

I smiled very slightly at him in reward for the concern, letting him know that I appreciated it. "Kasakabes don't back out of things very easily."

Dean grinned right back at me. "Neither do Winchesters. I guess you're just stuck with us."

"Works for me," I replied. We smiled at each other for a moment. I had to take in Dean's expression and it hit me suddenly that he probably wasn't that unguarded when talking about hunting with his brother. There was a difference with how you treat your family and other people. It's not always on purpose, but like Serenity and I will always want to protect each other, Dean wants to protect Sam, and so they probably don't talk about the risks of their job a lot.

I felt pleased that at least he trusted me to not only look after Sam, but to share his true thoughts with me.

The sound of the running water shut off with no warning and it had sort of faded into the background, but now the lack of noise was surprisingly pointed. It sort of jerked us both out of the reverie and as Sam got out of the shower, I started walking back out of the room and towards the door. "Er, yeah. Five thirty a.m. wake up calls set for both rooms. We'll hit the nearest convenience store and grab some outdoorsy clothes and some breakfast and then we're going to meet the Collinses at the entry point bright and early. 'Night, Dean." I reached behind me and twisted the doorknob.

"'Night, Holls," he called as I slipped out the door backwards, surprisingly not hurting myself.

It was only when I got back to Serenity's and my room that I realized he'd given me a nickname.


	5. Wendigo: It's the Great Monster Hunt

Dean pulled the Impala into a park next to the ranger station on the path into the woods and killed the engine. Haley stood with Connie and an older man in his late thirties. He had on a plain black tee shirt with an open button-up of a dark red or light brown and black plaid and long light-colored pants. He was ragged, with messy dirty blonde hair. Haley wore a white tee shirt and short tan shorts with a backpack up over her shoulders. Connie stood next to the man with his shoulders slumped slightly, his fingers slid under the straps of the backpack whose straps held his jacket in place.

I got out of the passenger seat and the giant in the backseat otherwise known as Sam stood up and ducked down again to get our duffle, shoved full with emergency first aid, tracking devices, flare guns, and extra clothes. Plus some snacks and water. I surveyed the group through my sunglasses that had the words "party" and "rock" on either gridded lens.

We didn't stand out, exactly, but we didn't dress quite the same. I wore shorts that went to my knees and a tank top, with my credentials in my pocket and weapons around my belt, while Serenity wore full-length faded jeans with a white spaghetti strap. Both of us wore riding/biking boots.

I looked at the three and then pushed my glasses up into my hair and off of my face. I smirked at Haley, rather proud of my own group. "You guys got room for a few more?"

Connie blinked at us in surprise, his face confused but he remained soft-spoken. Haley raised her eyebrows skeptically, finding this hard to believe. "Wait. You want to come with us?"

"Well, you know us Kasakabes." I smiled at Haley genuinely. "Can't stay out of the action."

"Who are these guys?" The older man spoke up with a sour scowl in our general direction. I got the immediate sense that he would not be very friendly.

Haley jerked her thumb back towards him while she stepped towards me, cocking her head and watching me with eyes wide as she searched for deceit or dishonesty. "Holly and Serenity Kasakabe, and rangers Dean and Sam." She scoffed. "Apparently this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue. Agent Kasakabe, that's Roy, he's our guide."

Roy eyed Dean with contempt, his lip curling. "You're rangers?" His eyes switched to Sam, who stood beside Serenity with the duffel bag's strap over his shoulder.

"That's right," Serenity answered evenly, crossing her arms. "We're more qualified than you."

"And… you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?" Haley asked Dean in a solid deadpan, her eyes falling dull as she seemed to think she had called a bluff.

Dean looked down at his own clothing for a long moment before he looked up and gave her an apologetic smile and a wink. "Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts."

"His skin's too fragile to deal with the sticks," I added, matching the apologetic tone that Dean had been using. Dean pouted and sent me a slight glare, but Sam had to stifle a giggle and Serenity reached out to fist bump me.

"What, do you think this is funny?" Roy hissed, narrowing his eyes. "It's dangerous backcountry out there. Her brother might be hurt."

Connie and Haley averted their eyes when I tried to look at them, clearly uncomfortable with being made the center of attention. I wanted to tell them not to be anxious around us - we really meant to help - but it seemed like now just wasn't good timing.

Dean met Roy's eyes without hesitation while Sam looked at Roy from his taller height with an unreadable expression, but Serenity looked about ready to bitch slap the guy into the next decade. "Believe me, I know how dangerous it can be," Dean assured him confidently, his voice a bit softer than it had been previously. "We just want to help them find their brother. That's all."

* * *

><p>The forest is absolutely breathtaking. I had never really stopped to take the time to notice but the soft and vivid greens and browns and blues and various colors of the leaves contrasted and complemented each other beautifully and all came together into serene peace with the distant sound of trickling water, insects, and faint birdsong.<p>

Roy led, with Dean and I walking side by side just a few paces behind him on the scraggly dirt trail. Haley looked around the woods more in trepidation than awe, while Connie kept glancing to his sister nervously, almost like he was afraid she would disappear like Tommy. Serenity and Sam walked at the back - Sam to keep guard and not worry about hitting people with the duffel, Serenity so that she could get snacks from the duffel bag when she pleased. She had started sneaking M&Ms an hour after the hike began.

"So Roy, you hunt?" I asked, eyeing the shotgun that the guide held loosely in his right hand a little apprehensively. So far I got the vibe that if he could shoot the four tag-alongs and get away with it, then he would.

"Yeah, more than a little." His politeness to me was forced, but it was there.

"What kind of fluffy animals do you hunt?" I asked, trying to make conversation more than actually asking out of curiosity.

"Mostly buck." He kept his eyes low to the ground, watching where he stepped, and after a couple of hours without being shot at, I decided I was probably in the relative clear and I dropped my eyes to look for anything unnatural (dangerous) or a little too natural (snake). "Sometimes bear."

Dean chuckled humorlessly and stepped over a fallen log. "Tell me - uh, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?" He smirked at me at his own joke but I was busy watching the ground and used that as an excuse not to dignify him with a response.

Right as Dean lifted his leg to take another step forward onto a slight decline, I saw the abnormal patch of straw and dead grass piled over the path. Roy snapped his arm out, switching hands that held the shotgun, and pressed his forearm against Dean's chest before the supernatural hunter could move forward. Right then, I saw the glint of silver reflected through sunlight.

"Whatcha doin', Roy?" Dean asked quietly, his voice barely more than a whispered challenge as he misunderstood the guide's intent.

I bent down slowly to run my hands along the path before closing my fist around a stick about a foot long. Lifting it up, I nudged my way around Dean and then threw a light underhanded throw at the trap.

The entire body jerked up from the ground before clattering loudly onto the forest floor, prongs clamping together faster than my eyes could follow with a sharp snapping that made me wince. "Bear trap," I murmured to Dean, although I was sure everyone knew what had nearly happened by the tense atmosphere of the near-confrontation.

I glanced over Dean's shoulder. Sam looked concerned, Serenity was popping more candy into her mouth while sighing at Dean's neglect to watch out, Connie looked uncomfortable, and Haley looked agitated by Dean's obvious inexperience.

Roy, however, was smug as he let his arm fall away and back to his side. "You should watch where you're stepping," he told Dean snidely before adding, "... ranger." as a sort of insult.

I sighed in irritation at the attitude but I didn't let Roy or Dean continue picking fights at each other's nerves as Roy led onwards, satisfied smirk in place so well I wanted to smack it right on off.

But I did grab the sleeve of Dean's jacket, just to be on the cautious side.

We lasted another twenty minutes before my hold on Dean became contested and I sensed the change in tug, turning slightly to see Haley had caught up and she grabbed Dean's other arm in a tight grip. I let go of Dean and sighed softly, looking over to Connie and motioning with a gentle nod of my head for him to continue, following Roy.

"You didn't pack any provisions," Haley accused, practically hissing in incensed rage. "You guys are carrying a duffel bag. You're not rangers, so who the hell are you?" She demanded, showing no signs of planning to let go of Dean.

Sam looked over Haley's shoulder and his eyebrows knitted together in question, inquisitive and curious. Dean half-shrugged and nodded after Connie and Roy. Sam nodded in acceptance and lifted a hand to push Serenity gently past us. She passed me with a mouth full of candy, so she sent me a look that clearly said _don't fuck anything up._

Her faith in me is overwhelming sometimes.

Dean decided to wait until the crunching footsteps were softer on our ears before he graced Haley with the truth, seeming willing to give up the information to her. "Sam and I are brothers, and we're looking for our father. He might be here, we don't know. I just figured that you and me - we're in the same boat." He sounded earnest enough and looked apologetic for lying to Haley.

"Serenity and I met them recently," I added, putting in my voice to add credibility. "Their dad left a note saying something about Blackwater Ridge but hasn't called since, and a lot of people have gone missing camping up here, so we decided to come with them and check it out."

Haley's shoulders sagged slightly in relief and she let out a long breath I hadn't even known she was holding. "Why didn't you just tell me that from the start?" She asked finally, seeming torn between empathy and frustration.

"I'm telling you now!" Dean pointed out to her helpfully, dodging the question effectively. He looked a bit sheepish as he added, "'Sides, it's probably the most honest I've been with a woman…" Haley looked at me and I sighed softly, rolling my eyes up to the sky. Yes, it's true. "... Ever." Awkward, uncomfortable pause as Haley was glad we weren't stalkers and Dean made himself look like a douche. "Are we okay?"

Haley paused and looked at Dean for a long moment but she was calming down, no longer looking like she felt threatened, and her eyes were softer, lips no longer curved down in a disapproving scowl. "Yeah," she accepted. "Okay."

Dean let the conversation move to safer territory as he grinned boyishly. "What do you mean I didn't pack provisions?" He reached behind him to the backpack half-unzipped on his back and with a crinkle of plastic, he pulled out a half-full bag of peanut butter M&Ms. He stuck his hand through the mouth of the bag, licking his lips in delight as he got a handful before offering the bag out to Haley and I.

Haley seemed amused but didn't take any. I, however, reached in and got an entire blue, orange, red, yellow, brown, and green handful.

* * *

><p>We emerged in a sort of clearing that looked around suitable for a campsite, even if the ground was a bit twig-covered. "This is it," Roy announced, his shotgun on a strap around his neck and his backpack sliding down his arms. "Blackwater Ridge."<p>

Dean and I stopped a few feet behind Roy but Haley and Connie went straight for the middle of the clearing, looking around hopefully for any sign of their brother. Serenity looked at some odd scratches at a tree (oh God, that looked like… blood) while Sam moved out past Roy, the duffel still on his shoulder, and he called over his shoulder. "What coordinates are we at?"

Roy looked like he had been going for his GPS anyway, and after getting the strap off from around his wrist, he looked down at it against the sun's glare. "Thirty-five and minus one-eleven."

I looked up to Dean and he gave me a miniscule nod. _Well, we're at the final destination. What now?_

_Well, I probably should have worded that better…_

I listened for the birds again. If there were any corpses nearby then there would be the crowing of carrion birds, but everyone was just too loud. It took me a minute to realize that there were no birds.

At that, there was nothing except us making any noise. No animals, no birds, no insects.

I moved to elbow Dean lightly for his attention. "Do you hear that?" I murmured, escaping the non-hunters' notice by barely moving my lips.

Dean turned slightly so his back was to Roy, Haley, and Connie and he was facing me. "Yeah." He scanned the woods in the direction we'd come from over my shoulder. "Not even crickets."

The silence was so eerily quiet that even Serenity and Sam seemed to just know that it shouldn't be interrupted. After Dean finished talking the noise produced by our voiced lapsed into a sort of disturbing roar of silence.

"I'm going to go take a look around," Roy declared after a moment, slipping the GPS back into his pocket and breaking the reverent lack of noise.

"You shouldn't go off by yourself," Sam cautioned solemnly, stepping forward to follow Roy.

"That's sweet," Roy sarcastically rolled his eyes and knocked his head at Sam rudely. "Don't worry about me." He waved his shotgun as if to demonstrate that it wasn't meant just for show.

I reached out and grabbed his shoulder, digging my nails in sharply. "No one goes off alone," I growled, my voice low. I looked back to the Collinses, knowing that the Winchesters and Serenity would be smarter than to hang out alone in the "haunted" woods. "Everyone stays together," I stressed to Haley, who seemed more likely to go off on her own. "Let's go."

We spread out slightly but when I turned in a three sixty, I could still see where everyone was. That put me slightly at ease so while I looked I tried to stay in that position until it was no longer a problem when Roy disappeared through the trees and a second later called out to Haley.

"Over here!"

Haley did a double-take and spun, kicking up dust as she pushed off against a tree to run over a dirt path where the vegetation had been worn away. She vanished behind the foliage a moment later, and Connie looked shyly to Sam like asking for permission before he followed his sister.

I just barely heard Haley mutter, "Oh my God!"

I thought for a moment that someone was hurt so I left Serenity and the Winchesters in favor of running after them, taking the slight decline in the slope with ease aside from a two-second stumble when I didn't realize that there was a depression in the ground. "Haley!" I shouted on instinct, listening for a reply.

The trees around me grew scarcer as I found a new clearing and I skidded to a stop, hearing what I had thought were my own footsteps' echoes fall short behind me before I realized it was my friends. I just barely avoided running into Connie at the sight of what was waiting in the new clearing in the woods.

Three separate tents had been set up, the basic kind that fitted one comfortably and two with a little cramming. Backpacks had been set up outside and what looked like a clothesline had been pinned up between a couple of trees. Stones made a circle in front of the tents and there were charred ashes and sticks like it had been a pit for a fire. It was pretty comfy looking, except now it was absolutely wrecked. The tents were disfigured and ripped, the fabrics tainted and stained with the red of what I suspect is blood. The stones around the ashes were kicked away into a ragged oval and the backpacks had been savagely torn through, cans kicked all over the campsite and some bags that might have held trail mix or raisins or other snacks empty and ripped open. The blood left discolored ugly brown stains on the ground leading deeper into the forest from the campsite.

"Looks like a grizzly," Roy commented, his gruff voice the only sign that he was at all bothered by the sight.

"I don't see any paw prints," I just barely heard Serenity mutter. Glancing over, I saw her shooting the type of scathing look at Roy that suggested she'd love to deck him in the face.

"Tommy?!" Haley didn't appear to care about either of the remarks and she let her backpack fall off of her arms. She called as loudly as she could without her voice going shrill and she ran past the tents, peering around the back of them like her brother might be stealthily hiding just out of sight. "Tommy!" The distress in her tone was enough to bother me.

"Sh," Sam started hushing her, moving with lanky steps to try to catch up. The six-foot giant didn't have to move too quickly before he was at Haley's back. Dean stepped around the opposite of the perimeter, moving towards the strewn dirt and sticks where the blood trail started. I looked over to Dean, then to Sam, and then started backing up to follow the older brother.

"Tommy!" Haley shouted. Connie looked like a frightened animal, looking around desperately.

"Sh!" Sam tried again, raising his hands up like he would pull her around to face him if she didn't turn around herself.

Haley rounded on him, angry and upset. "Why?!" She demanded.

"Whatever happened here had claws and teeth and strength and it might still be nearby. If you'd like to try to fight it, fine, but leave the rest of us out of it!" Serenity snapped, crossing her arms at the girl before scanning her eyes around the campsite again, her eyes lingering on the trail of blood. Dean and I knelt down by the trail right at the end point.

Haley bit her lip but seemed to understand the sense in what my sister had said and she looked down in frustration. I noticed a reflection of the sun glide down her cheek. _She's crying. _I can hardly blame her - if I were in her position I'd be doing the same right now.

I reached down to the ground, kneeling by the blood trail and stuck my finger against the soft pine needles. It was dry and rough, but an inch past and it was completely blood-free. "The blood trail just stops." I looked up a second later, my breath hitching at the thought that maybe that was because the corpses had been lifted up, and I half expected to see three bodies hanging from the trees. Instead I just saw dense foliage, completely cadaver-free.

"What do you think, doctor?" Dean asked me lowly, looking up and meeting my eyes with a completely serious expression despite the nearly teasing question.

"The bodies were dragged from the campsite," I said back just as quietly, eyes darting briefly to the three civilians. "The tracks just cut off here. Since they're not in the air, I have no idea what's happened past this point."

Dean stepped over the blood trail and he let his hand tap my shoulder lightly, signaling to get up. I shrugged his hand off after a few seconds as he kept it on long enough to murmur, "I'll tell you what, that's no skin walker or black dog."

"Both phrases mean nothing to me. I hope you realize this."

"You'll learn." The hand came back to my shoulder twice in two consecutive pats.

I rose to my feet again and turned to see that Haley picked up a dirty phone from the ground. The silver was colored red with what was presumably blood. With one hand she covered her mouth to stifle a dry sob and with the other she turned the phone over. The back was open, leaving the memory chip and internals in ruined condition.

"He could still be alive," Serenity pointed out. Haley gave her what looked suspiciously like Sam's "bitch-face #06" and Serenity took the reaction to her reassurance as an insult and returned it with what also looked suspiciously like Sam's "bitch-face #04."

_"__Help!" _I jumped and turned back to look through the trees in the direction that the blood trail had started towards. _"Help!"_

It didn't sound like anyone that I knew, and judging by the lack of screaming from our end, no one else recognized it either. It sounded male, shrill and in pain, and definitely human.

I unlatched my gun from its holster and heard the clicking of Serenity's shotgun's safety come off. Avoiding the blood trail, I took off in a sprint, moving through the trees. Later I'd realize this was one of the stupidest things I could have possibly done, but at the time my brain was just screaming at me to do my job and protect the endangered person.

_"__Help! Somebody!"_

What came afterwards, as Serenity drew even with me and we moved in synchronized leaps with Sam and Dean calling for us to slow down and Roy shouting for us to stop entirely, would stick with me for the rest of my life - a hungry, deep, animalistic roar and the human's shriek of agony.

Serenity slipped slightly when her boot's heel landed on a patch of leaves and I stopped right after she regained her balance in a new clearing. It was big and only maybe twenty meters away from where we'd found the ruined campsite. I looked up to the sky - there was absolutely nothing, no sign of life other than the trees and some sparse grass patches.

"Here?" I panted, slightly out of breath from adrenaline. I don't know what I was expecting - not another ghost, like Constance Welch, but nothing human, and I guess maybe I should actually ask questions next time I feel the need rather than chickening out and talking about the risks of hunting.

After all, Dean and Sam are nice guys and Dean was trying to point out that I don't have to hunt if I don't want to, so I'm sure they'd understand that I'd like to know what I'm going up against.

"Clearings have a slight echo to them, it was really loud, probably here, yeah." Serenity answered all in one breath, holding her gun up just below eye-level and turning in a three-sixty.

Footsteps thundered to a stop as the rest of the group caught up to us, deciding to drop off supplies so that they could catch up if we had kept running. Dean and Sam stopped on either side of Serenity and I. "Don't run off like that," Dean muttered at me quietly.

Haley lifted a hand to brush her dark hair out of her eyes, looking around with rapt attention despite her emotional distress. "It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?"

I listened, straining my ears to hear _anything _except for the panting and slight footsteps of our group. No feral, inhuman roars, no cries for help or pain, no sounds of natural wildlife. Hell, no sounds of life at all.

_Rip._

It was so faint I barely even caught it, but it was there. It sounded like fabric tearing and I turned in a complete one-eighty, facing back the way we had come. A moment later I heard a sound that sounded similar, coming from where we had left our "luggage". Despite it being far less than five-star, it does have all the survival equipment, and that is not a sound that nature makes.

When I spoke up, my voice was cold to cover up my fear and how fast my heart was pounding. "Everybody back to camp," I ordered, shoving past Roy and Connie and breaking into a jog.

The run back to the campsite seemed to take twice as long, but when I came back to the entry to the clearing I would have been pleased for it to have taken longer. Most of the supplies that we had brought were missing, but a couple of backpacks had been left with the food supplies ripped open, trail mix spilling across the ground and the packs ripped into pieces.

"Our packs!" Haley gasped in horror when she saw.

"So much for my GPS and my satellite phone," Roy grumbled.

Serenity turned on her heel to face the guide and she gave him that snide expression she reserved for idiots who might as well be blind. "So something lured us away before leaving us defenseless aside from a few guns we kept with us. Still think it was a grizzly?" She deadpanned.

"What… the _hell _is going on?" Haley demanded, raising her hands to tangle loosely in her hair.

"It's smart," Sam acknowledged, nodding towards the campsite from where we stood. "It wants to cut us off so we can't call for help."

"You mean someone, some nutjob out there, just stole all our gear," Roy translated, scowling and throwing his arms in a tantrum.

"_No,_" I hissed, whirling on him. "Listen, moron, I get you're not used to me, but when someone who's smarter than you tells you what's going on, you listen before you get killed by whatever just sabotaged us!"

Okay, so maybe that was a little harsh. Still, I regret nothing.

Sam lifted his hand up to Serenity's shoulder and lowered his voice. "I need to speak with you three. In private." The way he specified it and sounded so serious made me pretty sure that he had a hunch. I looked to Roy and glared before turning and walking with Serenity and the boys across the clearing.

"This better?" Serenity asked, disgruntled, while I looked over my shoulder and made sure no one was listening in.

"Yes. Good. Let me see Dad's journal," Sam demanded of Dean.

Dean sighed at being bossed around but he bent down to one of the backpacks on the ground, ripped it further apart, and after digging for a moment he pulled out the thick leather-bound book Serenity had told me about. He passed it to Sam and the boys crowded Serenity and I into a better position.

Sam rifled through the pages, squinting in concentration while Dean pushed me just in front of him and stepped up to Sam's side, Serenity on Sam's right with Dean and I on his left. Sam stopped on a page and held it out. "Alright, check that out."

He pointed to a drawing that I peered at skeptically. It looked like a sort of childishly drawn monster - a figure made of pencil-drawn sticks and points with a long, flat torso, long legs bent sharply at the knees, with bony elbows and gangly arms, a long neck, and pointed teeth with dark, sunken eyes. It was circled and something written in Latin was scrawled just underneath it in red ink.

"Oh, come on." Dean responded instantly before Serenity or I could even begin to read the English on the side of the page. "Wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or northern Michigan. I've never even _heard _of one this far west!"

"Think about it, Dean," Sam hissed back in argument. "The claws - the way it can mimic a human voice - the speed-"

Dean threw his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, and when he looked back to us, he scowled. "Great," he complained. He reached to the shotgun strapped to his belt and tossed it between his hands for a minute. "Well, then. This is useless."

"Hang on though," I interrupted, watching him as he put the gun back. "You said 'wendigos.' I think I've heard of that before, it was like an old tribal legend I read about a while back. I mean, someone turns cannibalistic and with the consumption of human flesh they gain these superhuman thresholds for pain and strength and speed, and they get addicted to the taste. But the more they eat, the less human they become." Honestly, I felt really stupid saying this out loud like it was at all a real possibility, but I forced myself to go through with it.

"It's something like that, yeah," Dean nodded grimly to me, looking disgusted at the very thought of cannibalism.

Serenity reached behind Sam to nudge my arm with her fist. "It usually starts because of a bad winter or food shortage and from then on the wendigo hunts humans when they come into the woods."

"Great." I sighed and lifted my fingers up to my forehead, massaging tenderly for a moment before I stopped. "We're out hunting for a monster I always thought was the product of dehydration and starvation."

"A whole new world!" Serenity sang, alleviating the severity of the situation with humor and singing, the way she always did when she thought everyone was too stressed.

"Don't you dare close your eyes!" I joined in, unable to stop myself from smiling after the first few words.

"A hundred thousand things to see!"

"Hold your breath, it gets better," Sam interrupted before I could. I shut my mouth and pouted slightly as he shut his father's field journal with a thud. "The wendigos are supposedly unstoppable hunters and they're only killed by fire."

"And it took our flare guns." I sighed. "Damn it, Sammy, you popped the proverbial balloon of hope."

Sam rolled his eyes at us before thrusting the book back into Dean's hands. The edge hit the older hunter in the chest and he huffed slightly. "We've got to get these people to safety."

Serenity glanced at me. "That means you've got to deal with the idiots, sis."

I sighed, bracing myself before turning around and raising my voice to the other three across the campsite. "Hey, listen up, we've got to get out of the woods. Things got…" _difficult, because there's a monster hungry for human flesh hunting us as we speak? Nah, something tells me that won't go over well. _"...More complicated," I finished lamely.

"What?" Haley asked in incredulity. If she were a dog I bet her hackles would have been raised in opposition to leaving without Tommy.

"Kid, don't worry," Roy grunted, rolling his eyes at my apparently completely unwarranted change of plans. "Whatever's out there, I think I can handle it."

"It's not me I'm worried about!" I snapped, glaring fiercely, temper strained.

"If you shoot this thing, you're just gonna make it mad," Sam added, coming to my aid. I let out a barely-there sigh of relief to have some help with this explanation. "We have to leave, _now._"

Roy sneered. "One, you're talkin' nonsense. Two, you're in no position to give anybody orders."

Dean caught the rising of Sam's shoulders and he stepped up to his brother. "Relax," he urged.

"We never should have let you come out here in the first place," I growled, frustrated by Roy's lack of compliance. "I am trying to protect you! I am Holly Kasakabe and you are just some wilderness guide who probably couldn't shoot a charging bear if his life depended on it!"

Roy scoffed, stepping across one of the ruined packs and into my personal space. I had to resist the urge to shove him down on his ass at the invasion of my bubble. "You, protect _me? _I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you goodnight!"

Serenity took the affront to us and the comment about our mother at high insult value and she stepped forward, shoving Roy by his shoulders backwards. He stumbled. "It's a near perfect hunter and even it is smarter than you, you stupid moron! If we don't get your stupid ass out of here then it will hunt you down like a cat would a mouse and eat you alive!"

I grabbed Serenity's shoulders to hold her back before anyone started bleeding and attracted the wendigo faster. _Dear God,_ I thought, slightly dazed. _Wendigo. I'm hunting a wendigo._

"You know you're crazy, right?" Roy laughed derisively in her face. I really don't like him.

"Yeah?" Sam rose to the challenge and stepped forward into the guide's personal space. "Have you ever tried to hunt a wen-"

Dean interrupted the scuffle before it could turn into something much worse by giving Sam a hardy shove against his shoulders.

"Roy!" Haley shouted, admonishing the guide for starting an argument. "For God's sake, don't you think they might know what they're talking about?!" Ah, and there's the dialogue to help my ego heal from the blunt abuse.

"Chill out," Dean ordered Sam, whose jaw was clenched tightly in anger.

Haley rushed in to step between Roy and the four of us, holding her arms out to stop us from lunging at each other's throats. "Stop! Everybody just stop it!" No one spoke out against her and Sam slowly relaxed, while I let go of Serenity's shoulders. Haley took this as a good sign. "Look, Tommy might still be alive," she rationalized. "I'm not leaving here without him."

There was a very long pause when I locked eyes with first Serenity, then Dean, and Sam looked to Serenity and Dean before we looked at each other. We all came to a sort of grudging decision as our hands were figuratively tied behind our backs.

"Alright," I gave in, voice strained. "But it's getting kind of late. If it's a good hunter in the daylight, it'll have us in an hour at night. It'll have the advantage because it'll be dark and cold, we won't be able to see, and we'll be hungry." It's better to make it sound like we'll be weak rather than it will be a bloodthirsty monster. "We won't beat it, at least, not in the dark. So we need to calm down, cool our jets, and stop fighting amongst ourselves." I sent Roy a very patient, but at least civil, look. "If we stay composed and together, then we'll stand a chance, even at our most vulnerable. We need to set up camp - most preferably right here - to stay in one place and defend ourselves."

Haley crossed her arms and Connie looked from his sister and Roy up to me shyly. "How?" The strong-willed female asked, willing to obey so long as we didn't give up or leave.

The tension in my shoulders relaxed as I encountered no resistance, only a callous snort from Roy, which I tried my best to ignore. Glancing briefly to Dean, he motioned towards the people in a suggestion for me to continue on the more normal instructions. I looked back. "We're going to go out to get firewood to last us through the night. Dean, Serenity, and I have got some firearms and extra ammunition, but we're not going to use the tents." I saw Haley visibly relax at that. "We're going to stay by the fire where we can all see each other at all times, and if we sleep we do it in shifts." I stopped. "Let's get the firewood first," I suggested. "And then we'll see if there's anything we can do about food and water."

* * *

><p>People listened to my plans, even if Roy did so grudgingly. Even he knew better than to leave yourself weak in the dark in the middle of the forest. Serenity rearranged the campsite to make it more orderly; she pushed the ruins over to one side and then rebuilt the fire pit with larger stones and more kindling. She took one of the bags that had been used to store now-missing food and stuffed it full of twigs and leaves to help maintain the fire, and Sam went with Connie and Roy to get bundles of firewood to last through the night while Haley and I found logs from the edge of the campsite to use as stools. I let Haley talk to Connie while I went into the tents alone and gathered what salvageable blankets and sleeping bags there were to keep warm.<p>

The sun had mostly gone down and only a few rays of light joined with the firelight, the soft crackles a reassuring murmur in the background while the orange, yellow, and red flames snapped up. Haley tended to the fire while Sam and Serenity sat on one of the four logs, their knees pushed up uncomfortably high. Roy occupied another one while Haley and Connie sat next to each other, her arms around him when she wasn't poking the fire with a large stick.

Dean bent over, kneeling over the edge of a cleared, long circle in the dirt surrounding the campsite. He took a narrow stick and started drawing in the ground. After almost an hour, I left the fire and decided that it was probably a good idea to make sure he wasn't - I don't know, drawing cartoons while we were supposed to be hiding.

Instead I found him drawing what looked almost like Latin in the same type of writing that had taken up a lot of room in their father's book. They were intricate with thin lines and dots and the time Dean put into them suggested they were more intricate than they looked at first glance.

I got on my knees next to him, staying on the inside of his circle of drawings. "So these are…?" I prompted, not too concerned with keeping my voice down. Serenity would probably want to know, too, anyway.

"Anasazi symbols," Dean answered, sitting up after carving another wide symbol into the ground. "It's for protection. The wendigo can't cross over them."

Roy scoffed out a harsh laugh.

I glanced over to him in more than a little irritation. He had his gun slung over his shoulder, barrel facing the woods begin him while his hands grasped the handle. "Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy," I called in annoyance. "Rules of the road, man, the experts do the work and the losers sit there and shut their faces before someone else does it for them."

Dean laughed at my irritation and I looked back, intending to give him a Look, but when I saw him grinning sincerely despite the situation, my frown melted away and I had to grin right back at him. Dean and Sam Winchester are the serious, guarded type because of their lives, as far as I can tell, but they truly have infectious moods.

Dean tossed the stick over his shoulder and leaned up, leaving a dusty handprint in his wake. "Let's go join the siblings," he suggested, standing up on his feet and holding out one hand to me. He helped me to my feet without scuffing the Anasazi and I sent one lingering, questioning look to them before following him to the log that Sam and Serenity were sharing, spaced slightly away from the others.

I sat down between Serenity and Dean and Serenity gave me a little smirk of approval at the positions. Now, whether they wanted to or not, whatever they talked about would be overheard by Serenity and I. _Mad skills of eavesdropping._

"You wanna tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours, Sammy?" Dean asked with that characteristic half-grin, half-teasing smirk.

"Dean-" Sam started, frowning unhappily at the nickname. _He's just going to have to live with it._

"No, you're not fine," Dean interrupted, rolling his eyes at the typical reply that he predicted. "You're like a powder keg, man, it's not like you."

"Yeah, Dean's supposed to be the misbehaved one." Serenity agreed and I was glad that we'd gotten the same impression of the brothers. She nudged Sam lightly with her elbow. "Remember the whole "credit card scams" and "falsification of identity" and whatnot?"

Sam paused for a long moment and I was a bit afraid that he wouldn't answer - not with Serenity and I around to hear, anyways. Finally, Sam made a noise of frustration in the back of his throat. "Dad's not here. I mean, that much we know for sure, right?" Dean started to nod in agreement but Sam wasn't done. "He would have left us a message - a sign, right?"

Dean sighed and looked down to his shoes, his shoulders moving up and down as he exhaled. "Yeah, you're probably right," he admitted. "To tell you the truth… I don't think Dad's ever been to Blackwater Ridge."

Serenity and I exchanged a look. I'm not entirely sure what she was thinking, but I felt like I was invading on a private matter.

"Then let's get these people back to town and let's hit the road!" Sam urged reproachfully. "Go find Dad. I mean, why are we still even _here_?"

"Sam…" I started, but bit my lip before deciding to go ahead and say what I'd been planning. "This wendigo is killing people and eating them alive. We're hunting it so that more people aren't murdered." I motioned gently towards Haley and Connie. "Those two are just trying to find their brother, who they love, and they fell into this mess. It's not fair to just up and leave them to their own devices when we know they won't survive."

"Who ever said anything about fair?" Sam retorted fiercely, irate that he wasn't being agreed with.

"No one ever did, princess," I rebutted hotly. I know that I shouldn't let Sam and his temper rile me up but just listening to him make my life's work seem belittled and naive was enough to make me angry even in my most calm moods. "But if we're all decent people - and last I checked, we are - human lives mean something to us!"

Sam scoffed derisively, unwilling to listen to what he didn't want to hear, even if he knew that I was right.

"You wanna know why we're still here?" Dean asked, voice rough. He reached into the bag lying against the log and pulled out their father's book again. "This book - this is Dad's single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here, and he's passed it on to us."

Serenity and I shared a look. That was a really big book - every evil thing, huh? Neither of us want to back out and we both thirst for knowledge, especially about things we were ever interested in, but hearing that almost made me shiver.

Dean's emotions were laid out on his sleeve as he spoke, his voice resolute and firm and completely sure of himself. "I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know - saving people, hunting things. The family business."

Sam scoffed and shook his head, his elbows on his knees, and he raised his hands to his face for a brief second. "That makes no sense. Why doesn't he just call us? Why doesn't he tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?"

Dean blinked and shrugged, his hands tightening around his father's journal. "I dunno," he admitted. "But the way I see it, Dad's given us a job to do, and I intend to do it."

"Dean…" Sam started wistfully like he agreed with Dean's words but then he stopped, like he just couldn't do it. "No. I gotta find Dad. I gotta find Jessica's killer. It's the only thing I can think about," he stressed, voice choking slightly and coming out strangled.

"Okay. Alright, Sam, we'll find them, I promise." Dean reached over Serenity and I, leaning over my legs to set his hand on Sam's knee. "Listen to me. You've got to prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while, and all that anger, man, you can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's gonna kill you. You've gotta have patience, man."

Sam looked down, squeezing his eyes shut. Serenity raised her hand slowly to his shoulder and relaxed once he didn't protest - accepting the gesture as friendly. "How do you do it?" Sam asked, looking back up. I was horrified and more than a little uncomfortable to see the glint of tears in the younger Winchester's eyes. "How does Dad do it?"

Dean took a long look at his teary-eyed little brother and then sent a meaningful glance in Haley and Connie's direction. "Well, for one, them." Sam followed Dean's gaze and watched closely, carefully scrutinizing the other siblings like he was trying to see what Dean saw in them. "I mean, I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. It makes things a bit more bearable."

Sam looked back down to his knees, shaking his head.

"I'll tell you what else helps," Dean added, his tone shifting to a more conversational lightness. Sam looked up hopefully. "Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can."

And at that, Sam actually smiled at Dean. He reached up with one hand to rub lightly at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and it seemed like the majority of the angst had passed.

A stick cracked loudly, breaking in two beyond the perimeter of the makeshift campsite. Everyone's heads turned to look in the general direction - to my relief it was beyond the Anasazi, but it was also shockingly close. I stood up wearily and reached for the gun at my side on instinct, although I already knew bullets would have no effect.

"Hello?" I called, walking slowly past Haley and Connie, looking into the forest closely, searching for any shape that wasn't tree or foliage.

It was like my voice had given it a reminder or something, because it almost seemed to _assimilate _my voice. The answering call that I got from the woods nearly made my heart stop.

"Help me! Please!"

Haley jerked slightly in unease. "That sounded like you," she told me.

"Yes, I sort of noticed," I replied dryly. The wendigo copied my voice, just like it had copied someone else's earlier. I shot Dean a withering glare. "What, no smart comment?" Dean just shrugged helplessly.

"Help!"

"Well, one thing about me you screwed up," I called conversationally, moving surreptitiously closer to the fire, remembering that that was the wendigo's weakness. "I don't call for help unless I'm in serious danger, so since you're the one trying to kill us, you really have no fucking right."

Sam stood up, gangly limbs straightening out, and he looked less awkward as he stepped further away from the Anasazi border and held out a flashlight, beaming the light in the shadowy trees in the general direction that my voice had been shouting at us from.

Roy stood up, too, twisting the shotgun around like he was going to use it.

I held a hand out. "No, don't. No one sounds exactly like me, it's the wendigo, and I'm pretty damn sure that it's not getting attacked."

"He's trying to draw us out," Dean agreed. He and Serenity were too close to the border of symbols for my liking and thankfully, Dean caught the look I gave him and understood the memo behind it. He stepped back and when leaves crunched mere feet away from her, Serenity's neck snapped up to stare into the trees and she backed up.

"How do you know it's a he?" Serenity challenged, pouting slightly.

The look Dean shot her was unimpressed. "It's a general assumption. Just stay cool and stay put."

"Inside the magic circle?" Roy sneered, loading the shotgun.

"Since you asked, yes," I snapped. "Haley, Co-Ben, you guys get over here, too." Dean, Sam, Serenity, and I had formed a sort of loose half-circle with our backs to the fire around the fire pit.

_"__Help! Help me!" _The wendigo shrieked, raising my voice into a shrill cry.

"This is going to get annoying really quick," I complained through grit teeth.

"You're telling me." Serenity rolled her eyes and as I watched, she turned to the fire, leaned down, and grabbed the end of a stick half in and half out. She pulled it up and turned so it didn't hit anyone, the end still aflame, sparks flying down to the ground while the fire crackled and illuminated her face. "Now I have to listen to two of you whine."

I had to admit, getting a fire stick was actually a really good idea. "Haley, get a torch," I ordered. "Stay close to your brother." I glanced at Roy. It seemed like it would be a good idea for him to do the same, but Mr. I-Don't-Take-Orders didn't seem too inclined to listen to anyone right now.

We still refused to move past the Anasazi and for once, I was incredibly grateful that Dean had thought to draw them in the first place. The wendigo seemed to give up and instead growled. It didn't sound like me, it sounded feral and animalistic. The tone was low and deep and rumbled deeply, before it turned to an angry roar that I heard echo in my ears once it faded.

Roy turned around, following the noise as best as he could with his shotgun up to his shoulder, trying to aim. "That's no grizzly," he finally said, alarmed and confused but still cocky enough to think it was a natural animal.

` Absolutely thrown by the complete obviousness of his statement, Serenity waved the arm that wasn't holding the torch in the air in frustration. "_Duh!" _She spat irately.

Haley grabbed a thick stick half on fire and held it with one hand. With the other arm, she pulled Connie close to her side. His white ear buds were over his neck and dangling over his shoulders and he was absolutely silent aside from his breathing, which had shallowed out in fear. "It's okay," she promised soothingly, despite her own voice shaking. "You'll be alright, I promise."

Her comforting words were undermined when a tall, dark shadow raced across a slight path, casting itself as a wickedly huge figure over the ground and she shrieked.

"It's here," Sam breathed. I wondered if they were already used to this sort of thing, or if the adrenaline struck them with the same force that it is me right now, because I seriously don't think I could take a deep breath if my life depended on it. My breathing was fast and shallow like I was running, my legs itching to move, my hands balled into fists.

The branches of a tree swayed and Roy pressed the trigger of his shotgun. The resulting explosion of gunpowder hurt my ears because I hadn't been expecting it. More rustling immediately followed the gunfire and a low growl.

"I hit it!" Roy declared triumphantly, lowering his weapon. He started to move away from the fire and towards the Anasazi surrounding us and keeping us safe.

"Roy, no!" Dean snapped, already moving to stop the guide from moving. The man had already started off, though, and he jumped over the Anasazi border before Dean could catch his arm. "Roy! Get back here!" Smoke was practically coming out of Dean's ears, he was so incensed.

I spun to the Collinses. "Don't move," I ordered. "Don't move, don't blink, don't speak, and for God's sake, don't leave the barrier." It was an assumption that we'd be going after Roy; hell, I knew I would at least try unless someone held me back. Serenity seemed to agree, holding her flaming firewood higher and jumping over the Anasazi. Sam, Dean, and I passed it at different points but all four of us were careful not to scuff it. It was surreal that we'd been kept safe and unreachable by a monster by some drawings in the dirt.

How's that for the power of words, huh?

It was like I'd stepped into a maze. I could see flashes of Sam's flashlight or light flickers from Serenity's flame, but I'd just gone into a forest in the dark with a predator hungry for my blood and adrenaline pumping through my veins. _Well damn. I didn't really think this through. _I ran just for the sake of not being in one place, and I turned whenever I nearly I ran into a tree of stumbled over something, but shadows flashed in front of me, tree to tree to tree.

"It's over here!" Roy suddenly shouted from further out - or maybe I was further from the campsite than I thought? "It's in the tre-" he stopped talking rather abruptly and I heard a loud snap and rustle, following by a hungry, pleased growl.

"Roy!" I heard Dean yell from somewhere nearby.

A light turned towards me and I raised my hand up to shield my face as Sam shone his flashlight directly in my face from about ten yards away.

**A/N: The song that Holly and Serenity start to sing is "A Whole New World" from ****_Aladdin._**


	6. Wendigo: Wendigo

A long night of fitful rest and keeping watch resulted in us staying in camp until a little before lunchtime and Haley and Connie scoured up the salvageable supplies from their brother's camp. Haley and I occupied a log and Dean and I were trying to explain to Haley what had happened the night before, when there had been a moment when she'd had to protect herself and her brother using a flaming stick and some weird dirt drawings. It only seemed fair that she continued knowing what was going on, especially since Roy hadn't returned nor been found and it was clearly a more dangerous outing than we'd planned.

"I didn't… I mean, these types of things, they aren't supposed to be real," Haley said stoppingly, glaring at her sneakers like they were totally to blame. She was confused and lost and still devastated about the possible death of her brother.

"I really do wish that I could say it's a joke," I said honestly, about to reach out and set my hand on her shoulder comfortingly before I thought better of it. If it were Serenity or Sam or Dean, it would be okay, but Haley only knows me as someone of authority who's suddenly made it seem that either the world is screwed or she's surrounded by psychotics. It would just be weird.

"How do we know it's not out there watching us?" As the thought occurred to her, fear seeped into her voice and Haley straightened, turning on the log to look behind us at the forest.

"We don't," I answered, completely serious. I saw her stop and heard her breath hitch. "But we're inside the Anasazi circle. It can't get to us while we're right here."

Haley accepted that - she needed to relax, so it was good. Besides, she had no reason not to trust me. "How do you know about this stuff?" Curiosity, not derision.

I paused for a long moment before admitting that I was following along, too. "I don't. Not really." She started to look down, losing hope. I stopped her. "It's Sam and Dean. My sister and I were investigating a string of disappearances in Jericho recently and the culprit wasn't a man. It was a monster. They saved my life." I paused and reached up to my shirt, pulling the neckline down enough to show Haley the top of the bandages across my chest. "I did get left with this, but it's nothing too serious. It just goes to show that they're talented and they've been doing this a long time."

"Does it hurt?" Haley asked softly, her eyes flashing in concern.

"Not really." It was a bit of a lie but I don't need anyone fussing over me, least of all someone who has their own family to watch out for.

Serenity sauntered over to us, her hands in her pockets, appearing nonchalant, like we were all buddies on a camping trip rather than comrades in arms during a hunting trip where we were both the hunters and the hunted. "Hey," she greeted, just getting the pleasantries over with. Haley seemed to take it like it was a summons and she stood up, while I looked up at Serenity, still sitting. "So, Sam says we've got half a chance in the daylight," Serenity said conversationally. "And not only is half a chance better than zilch, but I for one want to kill the son of a bitch that thinks hunting us is a good pastime."

I snorted at the way she meant it as a question. "Damn, I'm obviously in on this."

Serenity nodded, pleased, and then looked to Haley again, paying her some attention with the plans out of the way. "The thing is called a wendigo. 'Wendigo' is a Cree Indian word translating to 'evil that devours.' It goes back to the roots of the legend - well, I guess it's not so much of a legend to us, anymore." Her slight smile faded as she realized this and I knew that it would take us both some time to adjust to the supernatural being a real deal.

"The legend is centuries of years old. In light of the existence of wendigos, we can assume they were discovered around the time the legend surfaced," I reasoned softly to Haley. I caught Dean's eye briefly over Serenity's shoulder - he and Sam were talking over by the tents, explaining these things to Connie. "Supposedly, each wendigo was once a human. Who it was varies… an Indian, a frontiersman, miner, hunter, hiker, et cetera."

Haley made a face of repulsion and scowled. "How does a man turn into one of those things?" She asked, voice full of disgust and horror.

I honestly didn't know how to answer that. How does a normal human being transform into a... a monster? A wendigo? Just by eating other humans? Or is there some sort of freaky voodoo or mojo or something?

"It's not always the same details, but the gist of the story is the same," Serenity continued when I paused. "There's a drought or flood or extreme temperatures, and no food for the human. They become a cannibal, eating the flesh of himself and/or those around him in order to survive."

"Many cultures used to and presently believe that consumption of human meat will grant them superhuman abilities... strength, speed, enhanced senses. In the case of the wendigo, they ate enough for it to turn them so superhuman that they weren't human at all. And they're always hungry." My throat was dry and I winced as I painted the picture for Haley, imagining it myself. Did they know that they were changing, even while they were eating more? Did they try and like and continue or did they eat just enough to reach that tipping point and then go over the edge?

Haley stared at the ground, scuffing the dirt with her shoes. "If that's true..." she started slowly, frowning. "How can Tommy still be alive?"

I looked up to Serenity for an answer. I know a lot about legends and whatnot but admittedly Serenity was into the supernatural genre longer than I was.

Serenity grimaced. "You're not going to like it," she warned.

Haley looked up at Serenity unflinchingly. "Tell me," she begged.

I looked up to Serenity myself. Haley's a big girl and if she does have a breakdown, I'll put her back together to the best of my ability. I need to know this, too, anyway.

Serenity sighed impatiently like she knew already that Haley wasn't going to seem so tough once she knew the truth. "More than anything, a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time, but when it's awake, it keeps its victims alive. It stores them, hides them so it can feed whenever it wants. If Tommy's alive then he's somewhere dark, hidden, and probably underground."

"Which is why we have to track it back there and save any victims we can, your brother included," I hurried to add when Haley's face started to crumple.

Haley did not disappoint, by any means, instead hardening her resolve. "And then how do we stop it?"

I sighed and my hand inched towards my gun for a moment before I recalled everything and stopped. "Guns are useless, and so are knives. A wendigo's only real weakness is its aversion to flame."

Serenity held up a small biq lighter that she must have found on one of the ruined packs. It was over half full of fluid still. She flicked the gear and held down the button, the flame shooting to life. "We're going to have to torch the son of a bitch."

* * *

><p>Our group was terrified. Seriously. We were all calm, but it was right there, just under the surface; if the wendigo showed itself now, Serenitywould start throwing the Molotov cocktails we'd made at it while Haley and Connie would probably either freeze or run. Sam and Dean were the only people likely to be left to sense.<p>

Sam and Serenity led the group. They walked side by side, Serenity walking a bit faster to make up for Sam's height advantage, and Serenity held an empty beer bottle in one hand, the explosive mixed to trigger upon impact. It had been a unanimous decision between us all for Haley and Connie to walk in the middle; they had no means of protecting themselves, so the four of us would do it for them. By staying between us they could watch for danger from the sides but they weren't in as immediate danger. Dean and I took up the back, walking a bit slower but not falling behind. We stayed close and occasionally he'd set his hand on my shoulder and I'd reach up to take his hand, guiding him as he walked backwards to make sure there wasn't anything following. There's just something about having your life threatened that makes you okay with proximity.

We had no set idea of where we were going. From the campsite we could have gotten to the right general direction going out of the woods, but that's really all. Instead, we took up the next best thing - the path the wendigo left the night before. Branches were broken and either dangling limply from trees or lying scattered on the ground and long, bloody gouges were carved into the tree trunks. It was literally everywhere.

As we walked I saw another one. Dean walked backwards and I held his wrist loosely to keep him from running into trees or tripping. It was actually a little surprising how easy the wendigo's trail was when it moved to quickly and so quietly when it wanted. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was almost deliberate.

Damn, that's generally what people in movies say before it turns out that whatever it is actually _was _deliberate and they end up walking right into a trap moments later.

"Hey, Dean?" I started with a non-assuming tone, keeping my voice down anyway so I didn't panic the civilians between ourselves and our siblings.

"Yeah?" Satisfied, Dean turned back around to walk facing forwards again. I let go of his wrist, because honestly, if he trips while facing where he's walking in a situation like this, then he deserves to get a few scrapes.

"Is it just me, or does the trail seem a little… obvious?" I hoped that it would go without saying because if wendigos weren't capable of planning like that then I would look really, really stupid. "They were almost too easy to follow."

Dean looked at me suddenly and in his eyes flashed anxiety as he realized the same thing. He opened his mouth to reply but he didn't really get the chance, because a low growl that echoed in the trees interrupted him before he could say anything.

We turned around and stopped in our places, facing behind us. "Everyone get in one place," Serenity ordered, her voice low. She and Sam stopped in place and then backed up while Haley stepped back uncertainly, looking from side to side as she passed under the cover of a tree. Connie took several steps towards Dean and I and the two of us turned around so we could see the area surrounding us.

I looked over everyone. Nothing moved away from us. No one seemed too keen on moving at all, except Haley's jacket had a splotch of red on it that hadn't been there before. Sam looked tensed, like he was ready to either fight or run at the slightest sound.

Whoa, wait, back up. I did a double-take. An uneven dot of crimson on Haley's greyish jacket had caught its wearer's interest, too, and the girl looked at her shoulder with her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

I looked up above her - why would _blood _be dripping on her? Was the wendigo hiding in the tree and waiting for the moment to pounce, claws still dripping in blood from a helpless kill?

Well, not quite. I moved forward past Dean as soon as I saw the dangling corpse and heard the snap like my motions had triggered it. Bowling into her, Haley and I stumbled out from under the tree and fell down on our sides on the ground right before, with a loud, wet _thunk_, a mangled corpse fell onto the ground where Haley had been standing mere seconds prior.

I got up off of the ground, trusting that Haley was smart enough to do the same. I nodded to her slightly. "Sorry 'bout the tackle."

"It's Roy," Serenity identified with a scowl of distaste, both for the man and for the murder. His throat had been ripped out, his face clawed and stained crimson with blood.

I looked back up to the tree, feeling a shiver run down my back before I ascertained that no, there was no chance of more corpses falling on me before I stepped near the cadaver, taking a side step over it before kneeling by its side. I grimaced as I saw a small pool of blood touch my knee before doing a cursory examination, trying to forget that I was looking at the dead body of someone I'd said I'd protect.

"The neck was snapped," I decided, seeing the long claw marks and deep, sharp wounds that suggested he had been used as a chew toy. I grimaced again before getting over myself and reaching out to feel a hand, cold and pale. "Rigor mortis set in a long time ago. He was probably killed last night."

It was like I'd cued something, because more growling followed my words. "Get up," Dean ordered, and hands grabbed at my upper arms, pulling me up from my knees and dragging me away from the body. It made sense in a primal way - get away from the monster's food.

A branch snapped to our right and about five seconds later, leaves crunched and growls echoed ten yards to the left. "Okay, run!" Sam shouted, realizing at the same time as Serenity's eyes widened in alarm that the wendigo was done leading us and now had us in its kill zone. "Go, go, go!"

"Split up!" I heard Serenity yell in an order. It made sense for her to say even though I really didn't like it in the moment - more targets make it harder for the wendigo to get us all.

The adrenaline surge made everything sort of run together; the colors of the trees and the dirt on the ground blended and it was hard to tell where a tree ended and the forest floor began. I heard footsteps stop suddenly and it was followed by a human-like groan.

I looked over my shoulder as I was running, just to make sure that there wasn't anything creeping up on me silently, and ended up slamming straight into someone. I let out a startled cry but stopped when strong hands landed on my shoulders, keeping me from bowling both of us over after I collided with his chest. I looked up to Sam, his eyes wide and bright with anxiety, and forced myself off of the offensive before I hurt him.

"You are freakishly tall," I said, slightly out of breath from running as fast as possible without warm up. It was just the first thing that I thought of to say.

Sam nodded slightly like he was going along with it because we were both clearly a little out of it. "Yeah, I know."

A loud crash and several snaps made us both look the other way and Sam's hands slid down my arms and to his sides. The sound of a strangled moan made us look to each other before silently agreeing to go check it out and we found Connie hidden behind a thicket, having fallen over a branch and into a thorn bush.

"Come on," Sam urged, planting one hand on Connie's shoulder and getting him up on his feet again. "I've got you."

"Haley," Connie spluttered, coughing slightly. I looked to him in question and saw a spot of blood on his cheek where a long but shallow scratch had been carved. "I heard her scream."

I stepped around the boys and in the direction that Connie had been running towards, before blinking and stopping when I saw a steep slope in the ground and a glass bottle lying on the ground. I picked it up warily and raised the top to my face, taking a long sniff and trying to determine the contents. _Molotov cocktail._

"Serenity," I whispered, clutching the glass bottle tightly in my hand until my knuckles turned white. _Serenity and Haley for sure were attacked. _I did a sweep of the area and saw no blood. Serenity would have raised hell enough for there to be blood spilt. _She's probably not dead. _This didn't help me any. In the barely two minutes that we'd run my sister and a civilian had been attacked by a monstrous, deformed wendigo, Connie was injured, Dean was God knows where, and Sam and I only found each other because I ran smack into him. If I'd made a different turn, then the three of us might still be all on our own.

The severity of the situation was sobering.

"Serenity!" I shouted, but only heard the echo of my own voice.

"Holly!" Sam's voice was usually quiet but it was deeper when he yelled, and his voice echoed slightly. Still, the echo didn't prevent me from turning around and heading straight back for him. He didn't sound afraid or in pain but it was still best to stay near and if he was risking alerting the wendigo to where we were then it must be important.

Sam had Connie leaning against the trunk of a tree, sitting on the ground with his legs outstretched in front of him. Sam was on his knees next to the other man, a hand placed comfortingly on Connie's shoulder. "Are you injured?" I asked, trying to turn my mind back into the rational state I liked it in. I looked between both of them. "Look, I don't have an M.D., but I'm the closest to a doctor you're gonna get, so if you're hurt, I need to know."

Sam shook his head but didn't confirm it verbally. Connie looked down at his legs for a moment and stretched, rolling his ankle, before deciding that no, he was only bruised and scratched, and he shook his head, too.

"Then get up." My orders were snapped quickly but my voice was weary and on edge. "Haley and Serenity were taken. Dean, presumably, because it's not like we're being quiet. I know which direction they were going, so if we go there it's probably towards the wendigo's hideout. Find that, we find them, and we kill the wendigo and get all the surviving victims out."

Sam stood up and offered Connie a hand up. Connie placed weight on his ankle hesitantly, which made me eye him suspiciously for a moment, but he seemed fine. "She's right," Sam told Connie. "We need to get going to have the best chance." His eyes flickered to me. "Do you want me to lead?" He offered, a look of guilt barely hidden in his eyes. He probably felt like Serenity and I in danger was his fault because he let us come into the woods with him and his brother.

"It's my decision to put myself in this situation," I stated, giving him a long, meaningful look, answering one question and dissuading his irrational blame at the same time. "I'll do my job and protect civilians."

* * *

><p>"Hey, Sam?" I asked casually, more relaxed than I had been earlier.<p>

"Yeah?" Sam walked behind me with Connie while we moved carefully and slowly down a ravine in the direction with the most disturbance in the natural plants and trees.

"Why is it that each time we're in danger, I end up with you, completely clueless, and Serenity ends up with Dean and actually knows answers?" It was meant to be slightly teasing but I was a bit annoyed that it seemed to be developing into a trend.

It made Sam laugh, though, which was the point. Connie probably would have found it funny if he knew about what went on in Jericho.

* * *

><p>"If it keeps its victims alive, then why would it kill Roy?" Connie asked after Sam and I had taken turns answering his questions and explaining in detail what was after us, like Serenity and I had for Haley. I frowned and pushed a leafy branch out of my way.<p>

"Roy shot at it," I guessed, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "You'd be pretty pissed off if someone shot at you, too." I stopped as the trail grew less clear, opening into a sort of clearing where trees were spaced further apart and there were less drops of blood and snapped branches to make the wendigo's path clear.

"I think I'd be more in pain than anything," Connie answered in slight disagreement, bending down on the trail to take a break.

"Connie, think about it, you'd only be hurt if the bullet hit and if it hit, well, you'd probably be too beat up or dead to be pissed off later." I usually only do the silly, pointless arguments with Serenity but if she's absent and someone else will do it with me, then I'm good with it. I wish she were here, though. It would be better than having her kidnapped by a monster.

"Connie?" I looked over at the man on his knees at the ground and saw he had his head cocked to one side, watching me in complete confusion.

I realized my slip then. "Uh… Ben. Sorry, it's a sister thing." I said lamely, wincing at the reminder of Serenity's whereabouts.

Connie - Ben - shook his head in confusion for a moment before he pointed slowly to his left. "They went this way," he said, looking through the trees with wide eyes.

I did a double-take and looked back to him. "How do you know?"

Connie looked down to the ground, set his hand over something like he was picking it up, and then held it up, opening his palm for Sam and I to see. Several multicolored M&Ms rested in his hand, dirty from the ground but otherwise looking like they'd just come out of the bag.

I couldn't help the big grin that grew on my face. "Very _Hansel and Gretel_," I commented offhandedly, emotions rising with the finding.

"Better than breadcrumbs," Sam agreed, his eyes shining happily.

Connie straightened up and I grinned, starting to walk in the correct direction, lowering my eyes to the leaf-strewn forest floor in search of more candies.

* * *

><p>The trees thinned out as the M&amp;Ms led to what looked like an old mine entry. I slowed down, wary of getting close too suddenly, but stepped out from the trees, leaving Sam and Connie to either wait or investigate with me.<p>

The entrance was to a sort of cave that started to move straight ahead and underground, planted under a slope in the forest. It was maybe ten to twelve feet high and about as wide. It was boarded up with wood that was now rotting and weak and off-color. The nails hammered into the wooden boards were rusting and the wood around them splintered. A long beam went across the entry about a foot high, and another crossed the top of the boards about two feet higher than my head, which left maybe another two feet open at the top. Above the entry, a big wooden sign was nailed up, and to the side of the boards a big post was haphazardly dug into the ground and lettered with thick strokes of red paint.

The one overhead read _KEEP OUT NO ADMITTANCE_, while the post in the ground said _WARNING! DANGER! DO NOT ENTER - EXTREMELY TOXIC MATERIAL_. I stopped and looked back to Sam. At the right, about two boards had been knocked free and laid on the ground just inside. It wasn't a big gap, but the boards were wide and it would be easy for even Sam, with his height and build, to slip through, never mind a lanky female or short, non-intimidating male like Connie. Assuming the wendigo didn't actually care about the state of its captives, it could probably have dragged them through after or before it. I had no clue how big a wendigo was, but if bullets didn't bother it then I sincerely doubt wood would.

"An abandoned mine shaft." I scoffed out a harsh laugh. "Well, what do you know. Toxic materials? I bet there was some sort of collapse and one of the miners decided to go cannibal." I looked behind me to Sam and Connie, who waited by the trees a few feet behind me. Sam's eyes scanned the signs while Connie paid attention to me. "Big guys come knockin', they find everyone dead, they think 'well, this isn't safe' and they board it up. The wendigo knocks the boards loose and gets the scent of human flesh and attacks the next humans it sees."

"It fits the lore," Sam noted with a nod of his head in agreement.

I rolled my eyes. "I never thought I'd be making serious decisions based on horror legends," I muttered. "Are you boys coming in?" There was no strict guarantee that this was the right place, but there was no way in hell I wasn't going to check it out, especially since we had the scattered M&M trail leading us here.

"You're not going in on your own," Sam told me with a frown, looking like I'd done him a personal injustice merely by implying that I was planning on it. "Even a hunter wouldn't be that reckless."

I sent him one of my infamous patronizing looks. I don't want to be mean, but generally I get catty when someone hurts my feelings. "_Even _a hunter? Implying that I'm not?" I felt my lips pull back in a snarl. "I may not be experienced, but I'm pretty damn sure that tracking and killing a wendigo counts as hunting!"

"Please, not now," Connie sighed softly. "Can you fight later?"

"I don't want to fight." Sam turned those adorable, soulful eyes on me and if that wasn't enough, he looked like his feelings were hurt by my anger, making it hard to resist the urge to walk over and hug him. _He's just so much like a puppy… _I've met very few men that can pull that off and Sam does it without trying. "I didn't mean anything, Holly, but you're new at it and you're not armed."

I had to concede to that point, but all the same, I wasn't going to just leave. "I don't want to fight, either," I admitted, frowning softly. "But I'm going in whether or not you guys are. The longer we wait the less likely the others are to be alive when we find them."

I didn't give Sam any time to argue, instead turning to the side and stepping over the beam lower to the ground, loosely grasping the edge of the wooden boards and sliding through the gap. On the other side of the mine entrance, it was dark, light cut off, and I realized with a roll of my eyes that I'd need the flashlight. I turned back and stuck my head out the gap. "Sammy, it's dark." I pouted at the realization that I couldn't do my whole dramatic "speech and heroic risk" cliché.

Sam chuckled, walking out from the tree line and moving to the boards. "You coming?" He asked Connie, leaving it up for debate. "Your choice." It was dangerous to be alone but probably more so to be in the wendigo's lair.

Connie frowned nervously but he followed Sam. Sam stepped over the beam and angled his shoulders so he could step through while still looking ahead of him and he turned on his flashlight, the very soft click nearly inaudible. Immediately the mine shaft was illuminated with artificial white light that made me blink while the gravel and dirt under our feet crunched as first Connie stepped through and then I moved away from the exit.

The flashlight's beam showed how the cave went, and it was a cave. It was long and split into several different directions further ahead, with dirt, wood, and gravel on the floor. The top of the cave was nearly fifteen feet high and the sides were rough and uneven, some places jutting in more than others. The rock walls around us made it seem colder and the sounds of my footsteps louder.

We fell into a sort of triangle; Sam walked right next to me with the flashlight aimed at the ground and Connie walked right behind us, keeping close enough to have some shielding and also for us to hear him at all times. It was several yards down the gentle slope that I tripped on a loose rock and lurched forwards, wind milling my arms and kicking my feet to regain my balance. I didn't fall but I did kick rocks with my crazy motions and the loud clattering made me freeze.

The animalistic growling down the tunnel made my heart skip a beat before resuming twice as fast. There was really no way to describe how ominous the entire situation was, but I understood that I was possibly in more danger than I'd ever been in before in my life. At the same time, I had been more scared in other situations than I was now. It was like the supernatural becoming a reality was still surreal and I hadn't fully acclimatized yet; like I still thought of it distantly. It was like reading a second-person story or watching a movie from the camera's perspective. I knew it was real, I knew it was serious, but my heart and emotions weren't quite caught up with my brain.

Which, in several ways, is a really good thing.

Sam shut off the light immediately and we were plunged back into near darkness. I reached behind me and grabbed Connie's shoulder, pulling him roughly against the wall and flattening myself next to Sam against the rock. By no means did it make us invisible, because the bit of light coming through from the entry would be enough to make out three human silhouettes.

It took forever, but the footsteps of a large beast finally got too close for me to keep staring at the rock in front of me and idly wondering if I was staring at an insect without knowing. The thought of a bug right in front of my face made it hard to suppress the shiver that wanted to run down my back. Without being able to make out anything, I was more acutely aware of how quickly Connie was breathing and how I could feel his heartbeat faintly through my fingers pressed near his neck, keeping him to the wall. How the wendigo sounded so loud and so close even when it wasn't growling. How Sam's fingers dug lightly into my back, like he thought if he didn't keep me still I might do something stupid.

So I turned my head slightly.

I could look down the mine towards the source of the growling and I saw it at the intersection - the outline made by the tiny slice of light filtering in from further up the hill. Despite it being my first glance of a wendigo, it looked a lot scarier than it really was because I knew what it was capable of.

It was tall. Even taller than the Sasquatch next to me, at over eight or nine feet, but I could see the slight hunch in its spine and from that I gathered that it was even taller than it looked. It was lean, wiry, but shockingly thin. Generally when something is really big or really strong you think it has meat on its bones, possibly leaning towards the overweight category. It's just a stereotype that makes sense in most situations, but while the wendigo's shoulders were broad, its arms and legs were long and bony, and its middle was thin and angular. I could tell where its ribs ended. If it were lighter I'd be able to tell the individual bones in its ribcage apart.

It growled softly, like warning anything anyway from its territory, before it walked to the left down a different tunnel, wicked taloned hands swinging softly at its side, legs bowed and heels arched up off the ground.

_That used to be a human._

The thought was sobering and chilling.

I let out a long breath I didn't know I'd been holding and I heard the guys on either side of me do the same, slowly.

Once I could no longer hear it, I gave it another sixty seconds before I dared to move away from the wall and I let out a shaky, breathy laugh that sounded more like a quiet wheeze. "Thrill seekers and hell raisers, man," I commented, nudging Sam.

"Let's go," Sam whispered, turning the flashlight on again and aiming the ring of light specifically at the ground, not wanting to attract the wendigo's attention. "Both of you, just stick close, okay?"

I didn't argue. Despite my arguments that technically I am being a hunter, Sam would know better than I do and he's been at it longer. Who knows, maybe he's killed off a wendigo before. Besides, I trust him. He and Dean probably gained my trust in the shortest time anyone has.

This time I stayed close enough to touch Sam, so our arms brushed occasionally when either of us stumbled every few steps on the uneven ground, just in case we needed to shove each other to one side. Connie kept up behind us, moving quietly, but he wasn't as accustomed to danger and I could hear his shallow, ragged breathing. If I could have said something, I would, but being loud was a general no-no.

When the natural light was fading we were nearly to the intersection the wendigo had been at minutes prior. Sam and I took several more steps in synchrony but the wooden boards under us creaked, replacing the ground with rotting planks where there must have been a cave in or something when the miners were still here. We both froze solid and gave each other doe-eyed looks like deer in headlights, not moving in case we created more noise.

Connie stepped onto the boards just behind us to stay close in case of danger, just like we'd told him to, but that seemed to be all that the boards could take and they gave in.

For a moment it felt like being weightless until gravity took hold and the three of us all fell through to a lower level. It must have been ten feet of instinctive thrashing. It took a sneaker connecting with my back to make me start but I stopped when I accidentally hit Sam. Connie let out a decidedly unmanly shriek that I cut off with a deliberate punch right before we landed.

Connie was a bit away from us, having not been right next to us when the floor collapsed. Sam and I landed a bit too close and while he landed on his back, groaning softly, I got the wind knocked out of me, landing on my front with one of my arms hitting his chest.

"Sorry," I whispered, giving him an apologetic smile that I hoped was caught by the flashlight that lay askew several feet away. "Beating up the both of you was completely unintentional." Connie huffed in what seemed like a nervous laugh before he squeaked and threw himself backwards, crashing into Sam and further damaging the poor guy.

I lunged forward to the flashlight and grabbed it before throwing myself back up on my knees and pointing the light over to what had frightened Connie. An assortment of skulls were lying on the ground, looking like they were smiling maliciously at us.

Connie shivered but I grinned in delight.

Sam became a replacement for the floor even as dirt from the collapse rained down on us and as Connie scrambled over Sam, I stepped over his legs and then got on my knees by the skulls. "What are you doing?" Connie whimpered.

"I'm a scientist. This is pretty much the highlight of my day," I returned casually. I touched one gingerly, running my fingers lightly over the suture running along the top of the cranium. "They're real." I shone the flashlight at the other two while I gently lifted one up by the back of the mandible, balancing it neatly in my hand and turning back to face Connie. "Come here often?" I asked in a low voice, trying not to move my lips.

The dirty look he sent me was well worth it for the millisecond of freaked out confusion.

I chuckled. "They're all human, all real, and most seem European. These are probably either the victims or the original miners. Maybe both."

I turned around back to Sam and Connie, setting the skull down, and shone the flashlight at them but the light caught a pair of feet several yards away from them and I gasped softly, seeing the roughed up sneakers, and I snapped the light upwards. What I saw nauseated me.

Four people all hung by cords wrapped around their wrists and looped over hooks dangling from the ceiling. As far as I could tell, they were all unconscious. On the furthest left was some young man that I didn't recognize; he was probably either Tommy or one of his friends. Going to the right were our three missing companions, Dean, Serenity, and Haley.

The chains weren't all the same length, because Serenity's shoes just barely touched the floor while Dean's were firmly planted and he was falling forwards, at least half a foot of a difference. Haley's feet were a couple of inches in the air and I pitied the ache that would be in her wrists when she woke up. _If she woke up._

The thought jarred me into action and I scrambled over Sam again, accidentally kicking him, but I was too preoccupied to apologize. I rushed to stand in front of Serenity. She looked like she'd been dragged through hell backwards - her hair snarled, tangled, and matted and her wrists mottled red, brown, blue, and purple from both the bruises where she'd certainly fought against being chained up and where the ropes were chafing at her skin. Her jeans had a long rip just below one knee and the bottom right of her shirt was shredded nearly to ribbons, and through the scraps I could see that her skin was scratched up, too, dried blood making pieces of fabric stick while her side was turned red along with the waistband of her jeans.

Nerves made me stare stupidly for a moment before I snapped out of it and reached up to her neck urgently. "Serenity!" I called, hushed but desperately at the same time, and I pressed my fingers to the side of her throat. For a few seconds I didn't feel anything but then I swallowed and slid my fingers higher up her neck and found a pulse - staggering, but steady. "She's alive," I sighed in relief.

"Thank God," I heard Sam voice behind me, hearing scuffing as he climbed to his feet. "Dean and Haley?"

I shook my head silently. "I haven't checked." But medical necessity took precedence over the urge to hover by Serenity protectively in case the wendigo came back before she could defend herself. I moved over in front of Dean reluctantly while talking quietly but firmly to Sam. "Check Haley. Fingers to throat, not wrist."

Dean didn't look much better than Serenity. He was slumped over, held up only by the chains, jeans and shirt ripped with nasty claw marks and blood staining the sleeve over his shoulder where a particularly nasty looking gouge had been made. His eyes were closed and his hair was covered in dirt. The wendigo must have gotten the jump on him. I stepped close to reach for his throat, his body pressing against me uncomfortably. I found a pulse on the first try, now that I was actually able to think, and I moved on to the other male as Sam pronounced Haley alive. Connie gasped in relief and moved to take Sam's place, grasping Haley's shoulders and shaking her.

"Dean's alive," I told Sam, alleviating his worry. "Strong pulse. He should be fine once he's awake. Minor battering aside."

The other boy was in much worse shape. His clothes were torn and bloodstained, face multicolored with a plentitude of bruises and scratches, one eye swollen. Dirt clung to him and grime covered his face, broken only by streaks of tears and sweat. I reached up to his neck, pushing away my stomach's uncomfortable twists when I started wondering just how long he'd been a houseguest of our dear wendigo friend.

"He's alive, too." I was admittedly surprised and Connie sighed again, calling quietly for Haley before saying, "Wake him up, wake up Tommy."

"Jesus Christ, you guys are loud," Serenity's voice came out more like a rasp. I snapped my eyes to her, pleased that she was okay enough to wake up without being jostled, and even to complain, at that. She made a face and swallowed, then tried again. Her voice was a lot smoother as a result. "Could you keep it down? I was trying to sleep."

"Sarcastic bitch," I grumbled.

"Arrogant freak," Serenity returned with a roll of her eyes. She was in surprisingly good spirits, considering that she'd been kidnapped and strung up like a decoration.

"Cut her down," Sam told me, handing me the handle of a pocketknife with the blade reflecting the light with a soft shine.

"Thanks for actually getting to the point, Sammy," Serenity said after exaggerating an annoyed sigh at me.

I switched the flashlight to one hand and stood up on my toes, stretching my arms up to cut the rope keeping her wrists together over the hook. Serenity smiled sarcastically at me as I stretched up to her height. "How's the atmosphere down there, midget?"

"It's a lot quieter without your smart mouthing," I answered honestly, sliding the blade between her hands and pulling up. The ropes resisted weakly but they were old and it didn't take much for the knife to cut them. Serenity fell a couple of inches to land solidly on her feet, swaying for a few seconds before getting her balance.

"Connie, wake up Tommy." I ordered, casting a glance at Haley. Her eyes fluttered open before closing again at her brother's name, but at least that meant she was coming around. "Gigantor, you're going to have to get Haley down." The chain was too high for me to reach it without risking cutting Haley, too.

Sam and I passed off with the knife and flashlight while we walked between kidnap victims. While he softly cooed reassurance to Haley (he really is a nice guy) and cut her down, I grabbed Dean's shoulders. "Dean!" I snapped roughly. I suspected that Dean would need jarring to wake up, not the slow pull of consciousness. It takes something sudden or unexpected to wake me up; sudden loud music or a sound when there shouldn't be. Dean, having lived in so much danger, was probably the same.

Haley gasped softly as her knees buckled when she was let down. Sam went down with her, let her wrap an arm around his neck, and lifted her back up to her feet, patiently allowing her to regain her balance. Connie immediately embraced his sister and her arms found their way around his neck. I strongly suspected that she was leaning on him, but I was also pretty sure that they meant the hug as a loving hug, too, so I didn't call them out on it.

"Dean!" I said again, snapping my fingers by his ear.

He slowly opened his eyes until he recognized me in the dim light and then seemed to jolt himself into full awareness. "...?"

"Hey," I said with a pleasant smile that contradicted the circumstances. "How's it hangin'?"

Serenity snorted. "My God, Holly, that was awful." She laughed about it anyway and I smirked at Dean, hanging by his wrists.

He made a face at me before sticking his tongue out childishly.

Sam came over to Dean's side, leaving Haley with Connie, and he reached up to slice the ropes. Once Dean was no longer supported, he stumbled forwards, arms flying automatically around my neck. I had been expecting it and I reached up, looping my arms around him to keep him up. He straightened up as soon as his legs were obeying him again and we let go of each other.

Sam clapped his hand on Dean's shoulder, giving him that serious, concerned look. "You sure you're alright?"

Dean grimaced in reply but nodded. "Yeah. Yep." His voice was rough, hoarse, and he swallowed a couple of times before talking again. "Where is he?"

"He's gone, for now." I assumed he meant the wendigo. "Let's hope he stays that way."

The sound of stifled, dry sobs made me look over to Haley and Connie. They migrated their way to Tommy and Haley had her arms wrapped around his neck, hanging off of the already dangling body. "Tommy…" she cried desperately.

As we watched, Tommy's head snapped up and he took a deep, sudden breath that sounded like a shocked gasp. Haley was surprised by the motion and she let go, shrieking, and turned to Sam quickly. "Cut him down!" She pleaded.

Sam left Dean's side with a bit of reluctance, and he made short work of the rope holding up poor Tommy. Tommy buckled completely to the ground, falling on his ass, and Haley willingly went down with him. "We're going to get you home," she gasped to him, out of breath and distressed. She cupped his cheek with one hand, getting him to look at her even though she had tears running down her face.

"Holly." Dean's voice made me turn my head back to face him. He had one arm drawn across his chest, one hand pressing to his other arm like he was hurt. My doctor mode made me zone in on it and I started looking for signs of damage or strain. Dean saw the lingering attention and he let go of his arm. "Look. Our packs." He nodded towards one side of the cavern.

My eyes lit up when I saw it and I knew my entire posture had changed, become lighter and more hopeful. The earthily colored backpacks that had been stolen instead of trashed were lying against a wall, only one standing up. I started to squeal in excitement, just thoroughly pleased to finally have some chance at doing something on the offensive, but as soon as the sound met my ears I clapped my hand over my mouth, flashing Dean an apologetic smile afterwards.

Serenity rushed to them. Surprisingly, she was steady on her feet. There was one moment when I thought she was going to tip over, as she skidded to a stop by the packs, but she steadied herself quickly and bent down to go through them. The zipper seemed painfully loud but she got it over with quickly and then pushed the supplies around, looking for something in particular. She straightened up a moment later with a delighted smirk, holding two guns by the barrels in one hand.

"Flare guns." I grinned at her and she slung one of them at me. I raised my hand up in the air and caught the shadowy motion in my hand, lowering it to my face to study it before grasping the handle correctly. "These will work." I looked over to the other packs. "Let's get the other flares and let's smoke the bastard."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is the right direction?" Haley swallowed, her face covered in grime and sweat that came with the exertion of half-carrying her brother Tommy as he limped.<p>

"Well, we came in at ground level and then we fell down, and now we're going uphill," I rationalized, walking just behind her with Connie. "I mean, it's not like we stopped at the visitor's entrance to grab a map and some souvenirs before we tried to save you lot." Haley looked chastened so I considered that that was that. "We good? Because we should really try this thing called silence."

"Just try it on for size," Serenity suggested sarcastically, walking up front with Sam and Dean. The four of us were all armed with flare guns and she had hers out, pointing it at the ground in front of her, prepared to shoot at the slightest need. Meanwhile, I had mine ready for fire, finger on the trigger, taking up the back. "It's technically a game. Whoever talks first has to go to time-out."

We kept hiking up the slow slope for a while. After more than half an hour in this dark cave, I was beginning to forget what it felt like to feel sunlight soak into my skin. "Is it just me, or is it getting a little lighter?" Sam finally asked, breaking the quiet before switching off his flashlight for a moment. I had to admit he was right. I could see everyone's shapes and when I looked to Connie I could see light reflect in his eyes.

"We must be getting nearer to an exit!" Serenity did a fist-pump of victory.

We really should have kept our voices down, because the next moment I heard a low growl, the rumbling deep from the wendigo's throat. A shiver raced up my spine and the hair on my arms stood on end.

Dean grimaced. "Looks like someone's home for dinner."

Haley stopped when Tommy stumbled. An arm was around her neck and she clasped her brother's hand firmly like she was afraid he'd be taken away from her again. "We'll never outrun it!"

I raised the flare gun and pushed Connie forwards gently, getting him on the other side of Haley. "Come on, bitch," I challenged. "We're ready for the barbeque."

The resulting growl sounded more like a hungry stomach rather than a territorial challenge. I planted my feet and raised my chin at the tunnel down the way we'd come in a stance of defiance.

I didn't even dare to look back in front of me in case the wendigo was behind us. It knew the mines; it was coordinated and had the advantage, and the echoing quality made it hard to tell where the sounds were coming from.

"Sam. You thinkin' what I'm thinking?" Dean asked, not even bothering to keep his voice down anymore. The wendigo knew we were here now, anyway.

"Yeah, I think so." I imagine Sam nodded, but I was a bit busy staring around at the darkness with the flare gun close to my body but pointed ahead of me to look and see.

The next time Dean spoke, it was slightly quieter and meant more for the Collinses. "Alright, listen to me. Stay with Sam. He's going to get you out of here," the older Winchester promised.

"What are you going to do?" Serenity asked with a sigh. "Stay with Sam? Which means it's not safe to be with you, and since the only dangerous thing here is the wendigo, you plan on luring it out."

"I really hope you know what you're doing," I muttered even as Dean's footsteps faded away in confirmation of Serenity's hypothesis.

A moment later we heard him yelling from several yards in front of the group. _"Chow time, you freaky bastard!" Oooooof_ course. _"Yeah, that's right! Bring it on, baby!" _He was yelling so loudly the wendigo would have to be deaf not to hear. And it was really anything but. _"I taste good!"_

"So many innuendos, so little time." Serenity sighed in mock disappointment and flashed me her signature smirk.

"Hey, if you want to get laid, I'm sure he wouldn't have any objections," I pointed out with a roll of my eyes as I turned around to walk next to her. She'd fallen behind in favor of letting Sam lead and walking with me, Haley, Tommy, and Ben in the middle.

Sam made us wait in stillness until Dean was what he deemed a safe distance away. Personally, I thought he was a very dangerous distance away, because I could no longer make out anything more than his outline and the earthy colors of his skin and clothes and hair, but evidently his own safety is not the main concern with them.

Sam swallowed and then made the decision to move. "Alright, come on." He set his hand on Connie's shoulder and pushed, ushering the other man after Dean. "Not too fast but quickly!"

_"__Hey! You want some white meat, bitch? I'm right here!"_

The growling reverberated along the rock walls of the mine tunnel deeply and I strongly suspected at this point that it was behind us. It seemed to be getting louder and yet Dean was still unharmed.

Serenity twisted on her heel to shuffle sideways. It wasn't hard for her to keep up with the three siblings, because Connie opted to stay close to his sister, who had to help her limping, malnourished brother along. From what I could see, he was barely clinging on to consciousness. "Get them out of here," she ordered Haley sharply.

Haley's eyes widened marginally before she protested. "Guys, no-"

Serenity cut her off. "Go!" She hissed, giving Connie a solid knock between the shoulder blades to spur him onwards.

Connie put one of his hands on his sister's shoulder and he looked meaningfully at his brother. "Come on, Haley, please!"

Connie and Haley looked each other in the eyes and had a strong, intense sibling connection where they argued silently for a moment before Haley groaned softly, accepting it but not liking it. She bowed her head, grit her teeth, and tried to speed up. Connie moved to the other side of Tommy and took his brother's other arm around his shoulder, grasping his wrist with the opposite hand, and tried to help to the best of his ability. As I watched, Tommy's good leg lifted slightly like he was trying, but one shoe completely dragged on the ground. It was a miracle that we were moving as fast as we were and I wouldn't be surprised if Tommy passed out from shock. Something like that had to hurt like hell.

I lagged deliberately, looking out in front of the Collinses as they struggled after Dean, who I could still hear shouting insults at the top of his lungs.

I shouldn't have turned my back to the direction of the threat because one minute, I'm looking to Haley, Connie, and Tommy, and the next thing I know there's something slamming with the force of a train into my back.

It felt like a fist and it hit the small of my back so hard that it sent me flying. I clasped onto the flare gun tightly, not letting go, but when I smacked down onto the ground, dazed and disoriented, I couldn't think or move well enough to shoot the damned wendigo that got the jump on me. Feral, bloodthirsty growls resonated close to my ears and I forced myself to ignore the shooting pain of what felt like shattered bones and roll onto my back.

The wendigo looked awful. Its teeth were long and yellowing, but wickedly curved and stained with blood. It was bony and thin despite its strength and superior agility, and the nose and mouth pushed out of the face slightly like a muzzle. Its skin was rough and calloused and bare. It was a wonder it didn't freeze to death in the winters. Its eyes, though, had big black pupils and slitted yellow irises that made me shiver as it bent to my face and snarled through its teeth. Scythe-like talons pulled up on a hand that was long, big, and disproportionate to its grey arm.

I looked up in dreadful anticipation. It had me down and with one fell swipe, I'd be dead.

That was when its arm swung and when it was still coming down in the neat arch, it collided with something that made the entire cavern light up with a nearly blinding white light. I squeezed my eyes shut as the wendigo roared furiously at the barrier, but at the assault, I felt a reassuring warmth wrap around me and then spread through my body, relaxing and warming my every fiber. It was hot and scorching and at the same time cool and soothing, like cold water on a burn. At the same time it was comforting, like slipping into a hot bath, and I felt all of the tense muscles in my body relax and soothe and the pain I felt from being used as a fucking anger management toy by Constance Welch and the wendigo sort of faded into the background until I wasn't entirely sure if it was even there anymore. It was a blissful sort of peace and for a moment I was absolutely convinced that someone was hugging me.

With a crackling sound like lightning, the light vanished and I opened my eyes hesitantly, the blinding white flashing over my retinas for a moment before I could see the wendigo, snarling and spitting at me, enraged, but it didn't dare come close to me after whatever the hell had just happened.

I was protected. Something had defended me and repelled the wendigo. The affection I held for the Winchesters multiplied tenfold in that moment, because they must have slipped something onto my person or done something to me as a last defense and damn, it worked well.

Another flash of light lit up what now seemed even darker, but it was nowhere near the terrifying brilliance as the supernatural wendigo-fence. I flashed in a straight line past the wendigo, which arched and jumped, and the light hit the ground several feet away. _Flare gun._

"Get up!" Someone yelled. I recognized the voice although I didn't immediately match it to a face. With renewed vigor, I rolled back onto my stomach, pulled my knees in, and pushed myself up onto my feet, scrabbling at the wall with my hand while I ran along the side, sprinting up the slope to Sam, Serenity, and the Collinses.

There was absolutely no pain in my body and I felt like I'd slept and relaxed and everything, like I'd been completely rejuvenated. It made my brain pause for a millisecond to wonder if maybe the defense had been some sort of magic.

Sam started a mantra of 'hurries' before the wendigo's loud footsteps were enough to echo in my ears. I'd be having nightmares of this for a long time, I could tell - in the mostly dark, dank and rank stale air of an abandoned mine in the middle of freakin' no where with a monster chasing us. Sam abruptly stopped and turned. "Get behind me!" He ordered, shuffling his feet into a wider stance and spreading his arms, making himself as big an obstacle as possible and shielding the three civilian siblings. Serenity and I stopped on either side of him, exchanged a nearly imperceptible nod, and then turned, lifting our flare guns up in synchrony just in front of Sam's arms, prepared to shoot.

The wendigo advanced and Connie whimpered, Haley letting out a soft, horrified shriek as she got her first good look at it. It hunched down, lowering itself nearly to all fours, growling and baring its teeth like it was just daring us to try to run.

I smelt its rank breath when it was five feet away, just in time for Dean to step out of shadows behind it and shout indignantly. "Hey!"

The wendigo took the bait and turned around, cocking its head, and the moment it had its back to us, Dean, Serenity, and I all fired our guns.

Once they hit, the flares didn't extinguish. The wendigo shrieked, an otherworldly sound that I felt vibrate the ground, and it swayed on its feet, craning its neck up to wail at the ceiling. I lowered my flare gun with wide eyes, stunned but fascinated at the same time as the superhuman monster crumpled, shaking and falling to the ground in a big heap, chest rising and falling faintly as the flesh the flares had met started smoking, the deformed body catching onto a lazy fire that smoked its way up. There was no danger of a wild fire; I suspected that it was tame and once it worked its way through the finally-not-breathing wendigo, it would put itself out.

And that was when I really noted that the wendigo was still, not even breathing, lying in a heap of blood and fire and barbeque on the ground, and I had just ganked both a woman in white and a monster who used to be human.

Dean looked over the wendigo, not too impressed, although I could see grime on his face streaked and smeared with sweat and he breathed heavily from adrenaline. He sent me a triumphant grin. "Not bad, huh?" I nodded silently in agreement, because while this was one of the most horrific days I've ever had, it's also one of the ones I'm least likely to ever forget.

* * *

><p>"That's when it circled the campsite," Connie told a police officer earnestly, his hands tucked under his arms as he hugged himself tightly, shaken. "I mean, this grizzly must have weighed eight hundred, nine hundred pounds." Sam stood just behind him, nodding silently in agreement to whatever story was being told.<p>

I walked by the officer and clapped Connie's arm lightly. "The boy's a local, sir." I met the officer's eyes and although it sounded like I was suggesting something, I meant it as an order. "His brother was seriously hurt and he and his sister both need to see medics. You schedule some other time to ask them any more questions."

The officer seemed slightly surprised but he took it in stride, dipping his head to me in respect. "Yes, Agent Kasakabe."

I nodded and then squeezed Connie's shoulder, where my hand had remained. "I don't know if I'll see you again, so you look after your siblings."

"I will." Connie seemed relieved just to have the entire ordeal over.

I looked up to Sam again and we locked eyes for a moment. "Your brother's done being questioned. You can see him when you like. I think he plans on taking off soon." Taking off as in, not to the motel, but out of town. Sam just gave me another nod. He'd probably already known that. For all I know, this type of day is their typical routine.

I sent another look to the officer, making sure he knew that I'd know if he didn't let the Collinses leave to the hospital in peace, before walking past the squad car through the twilight lighting towards Dean, leaning against his Impala in the driveway. Down the way, an ambulance was prepared to drive Tommy to the hospital, while a van of paramedics attended to disinfecting Serenity's injuries. The pro of being my sister in this case is that she gets great, immediate medical attention; the con is that she'd not be allowed to refuse it. I snickered when I saw the glare she sent me after snapping at a medic. Haley stood with Tommy, a hand on his shoulder while a pulse monitor was set up as he laid on the gurney.

"So… I don't know how I can thank you enough." I shrugged slightly at the truth and leaned against the side of Dean's car next to him.

In the light that came mostly from the police and ambulance lights, I saw him smirk and give me a very flirtatious smile.

I tried to seem disapproving but it didn't work. I had to smile anyway, amused, and I reached out to playfully punch his arm. "Do you have to hit on every woman you meet?"

Dean looked surprised that I had asked and he gave me a less flirty grin. "Yeah!"

I rolled my eyes at the answer but the smile stayed firmly in place. "Seriously though… whatever you did back there, it saved my life."

Dean's smile faded slightly, sobering, and his flirty and fun mood took a backseat to the more serious topics that deserved discussion. "You helped," he reminded me, mistaking what I was talking about.

I shook my head, correcting him. "No, not with the kill - the wendigo. It threw me over and tried to attack me, but it was repelled by some sort of shield or something." I paused and recalled what the warmth had felt like. "It seemed to hurt the wendigo, but it felt to me like I was getting a nice hug."

Dean's frown was much more pronounced and I felt the beginnings of worry stirring. He looked concerned and a little nervous. "Holly…. I have no idea what you're talking about."

My smile fell. "But… if you and Sam didn't do that… then who did?" The smile was replaced with a frown of anxiety and I crossed my arms defensively. It had been something very powerful, and I'd assumed it was safe because of Dean and Sam.

Dean shrugged his shoulders helplessly, not having any answer. He still looked mildly concerned and a bit worried. "You're alive and safe," he stated finally, with an air of finality that told me that we shouldn't waste time worrying about it unless something else happened. "That's what matters."

_Yeah. I am. I'm safe…_

And absolutely not in pain aside from when we were running and I'd landed awkwardly on my ankle. My eyes widened and I raised one hand up to my chest, pressing hard against the bandages, searching for the telltale ache of soreness that came with having holes burned into your chest by a ghost. There was no twinge; just the little protest that came from my sternum being pressured.

With big eyes, I looked up to Dean in amazement. They were serious wounds… while not an immediate risk I'd been estimating at least a couple of months before they were fully healed. Now here I am, not even a week later, and it's like I'd never been hurt at all.

Dean misinterpreted the good as something worrisome. "What is it?"

"The holes that Constance Welch burned into my chest…" I started, my hand falling from my chest limply. I was shocked. How is it possible to heal like that?! "They're gone. There's no pain, no soreness, nothing. It's like they were never even there."

Dean's frown became more pronounced and he lifted one of his hands up to my shoulder, squeezing softly in reassurance. "You're alive and safe," he reiterated firmly. I wondered if he was reminding me or himself in the light of something shocking and unexplainable. "That's the important part."


	7. Dead in the Water: Watery Graves

**The Road So Far…**

_ "__Our dad's gone out on a hunting trip and he hasn't called in a few days."_

_ "__Is your dad in an occult or something? Salt and cats-eye shells."_

_ "__I know it seems hard to believe. I really understand that. But you've seen the proof that the supernatural exists now. I'm sorry you've been shoved into it. But yes, that was the murderous ghost of a woman long dead."_

_ "__Something's wrong, someone else is in the house, they were waiting for Sam to get home."_

_ "__Dad disappearing and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence."_

_ "__This book – this is Dad's single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here, and he's passed it on to us."_

_ "__I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know – saving people, hunting things. The family business."_

_ "__It threw me over and tried to attack me, but it was repelled by some sort of shield or something. It seemed to hurt the wendigo, but it felt to me like I was getting a nice hug."_

_ "__The holes that Constance Welch burned into my chest… They're gone. There's no pain, no soreness, nothing. It's like they were never even there."_

* * *

><p>I held out the big newspaper in front of me and past my plate, taking another forkful of scrambled eggs into my mouth in a diner just outside of Grand Junction, Colorado. I had been correct in assuming that the boys would want to move on quickly; the night after we killed the wendigo, we threw our bags into the back of the Impala and got in to drive twenty minutes to Grand Junction before finding another hotel and paying in cash. The horrifying endeavor into the woods had been three days ago.<p>

Dean sat across from me, the two of us sitting in chairs by the glass wall stretching along the front of the diner. On our sides and towards the main aisle were the seats that our siblings had taken, but currently they were out making sure they had everything in the Impala, and so now they were just occupied by the air and pulled out a bit. Dean had already eaten a plate of bacon and was now thumbing through the obituary sections in _Journal Star_. He offered me to eat, since he was planning on using one of those fake cards again, but at the offense to the law that I was slowly getting accustomed to, I sent him a withering look and put my name on the tab instead before ordering one of the biggest meals they offered.

"Do you do this often?" I asked after taking a long drink of water and turning the page to - oh, look, more obituaries. _Surprise, surprise, _I thought to myself sarcastically. "Because reading about strangers' deaths seems a bit depressing."

Dean flashed me the charm smile over his newspaper. "It's lighter than your check is going to be." If Serenity were inside, she'd have applauded him on his sass. Instead, I scowled at him and kicked him lightly under the table.

I looked back to my newspaper, still discontented, and went back to my breakfast.

_Garofalo, Steph. Fifty-four. Stage four stomach cancer._

_Kolquehoun, Christina. Thirty-one. Freak accident._

_Natale, Dominic. Forty-three. Heart attack. _That one gave me pause for a minute. Supernatural? Heart attacks don't generally happen to people in healthy condition when they're only in their early forties, but then again, it did happen and it never said anything about "Natale, Dominic" being healthy. Probably not anything to worry about, then.

_Bouvier, Tobias. Twenty-seven. Suspected foul play; police investigation pending._

_Carlton, Sophie. Eighteen. Alleged drowning. _The "alleged" part made me pause and go back to read it more carefully instead of just skimming. _The Carlton family is sad to announce the death of their beloved daughter in a tragic swimming accident. _I skipped over the emotional stuff (yes, I know, I'm a heartless bitch), and found that the body had yet to be found, despite that her brother last saw her in the lake and that the lake had since been dredged.

_Well, that's weird. Bodies don't just disappear._

I looked up to Dean again. "Hey, I might have something."

Dean lowered his newspaper and looked to me but before I could say anything, we were interrupted by our waitress coming by again. She leaned over the table at the same time as the bell above the door rang and Serenity stepped through as Sam held it open for her.

Her nametag said her name was Wendy. She had long blonde hair except for at her roots, where her hair was dark brown. Other than that, she was fairly pretty, with nice complexion, a slight tan, deep brown eyes, and a wide smile showing off white teeth with the barest accent of lip gloss. She wore a white bead bracelet around her right wrist and a long golden chain with the charm of a key around her neck.

"Can I get you anything else?" She asked, bending her hands back and pressing on the table overly friendlily.

I looked away from her and to Dean in question but stopped when I saw where his eyes were straying. Instead of looking at her face, he was looking at her chest. She wore an off-white tank top with an admittedly low neckline and a soft floral design. I scowled again at him disapprovingly and kicked him under the table again.

Sam and Serenity came to the rescue before she realized that Dean was eye-groping her. Serenity walked around her and pulled her chair next to me back out with a loud grinding noise that interrupted the mood, while Sam threw himself into the chair lazily and gave her a polite smile. "Just the check, please."

She nodded and bit at her lower lip, trying to resist smiling at the second handsome man. "Okay." She turned, walking back towards the cashier station, her hips swaying.

Dean sighed in disappointment and closed his eyes, letting his head drop towards the table in frustration. _Plans effectively ruined by your own brother._

It would have been comical if I wasn't irritated. I sent him another patented look that my friends often said reminded them of an angry teacher. "Stop objectifying women, you moron."

"I'm not objectifying them!" Dean denied, raising one hand up to his shoulder in a sort of helpless, don't-shoot-me motion. "I'm… appreciating them."

Serenity snorted next to me. It was easy to tell that she was not impressed, nor was she buying it. "Yeah, I'm sure that's what it is."

I rolled my eyes at the exchange. Why is it that we haven't argued once while in stress, but when we're all relaxed, Dean keeps pissing off Serenity and I? "Anyway," I very pointedly brought the conversation back to the actual point. "Sam, look at this. I think I found something." I passed the newspaper that I held over to Sam. He and Dean would know the signs better than Serenity or I. "Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week, eighteen-year-old Sophie Carlton allegedly drowns. The lake was dredged but there was no body found." I pushed my plate away from me and got my wallet out of my pocket, thumbing through my cards for one of my VISAs. "I'd say it's nothing, but it's the third time this year, and still no bodies to account for the missing persons. The funeral was two days ago."

"Funeral?" Serenity raised her eyebrows at me. "I thought you just said the bodies weren't found."

"Yeah, it's a weird thing people do." I shrugged, as clueless as she was. "Apparently burying an empty box gives people 'closure.'" I made air quotes around the word.

Serenity shook her head, frowning at the opposite side of the newspaper while Sam skimmed the obituary. "Makes no sense. If they're gone, they're gone. If they can't figure that out then it's not closure they need, it's help." With that, she reached over to my glass of water and dragged it over to her. A ring of condensation at the bottom made a long, wet streak across the top of the table. Serenity took the straw from her empty glass, plopped it into my water, and helped herself.

"People don't just disappear," Sam scoffed. "People just stop looking for them."

Even with what little I knew of their father's disappearance, I could tell that was a shot.

"Whoa." Dean threw the newspaper onto the table with more force than was necessary and I tensed slightly, waiting for the inevitable argument to follow. He raised his eyebrows at Sam, unimpressed and unamused. "Something you want to say to me?"

Sam only waited a moment before he threw caution to the wind. "The trail for Dad. It's getting colder every day."

"Exactly." Dean's voice was like a low growl in his frustration. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Something. _Anything." _Sam's voice broke slightly and if Dean had actually listened, he'd be able to tell that Sam wasn't pissed at Dean; he was afraid and worried about their father.

However, Dean didn't pick up on this and instead he lashed out in turn, like a cornered animal. "You know what, I'm sick of this attitude! You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?"

Sam looked like a wounded puppy when he realized that Dean was aggravated with him now and he tried to backtrack and explain better. "Yeah, I know you do, it's just-"

"Damn it, Sam, I'm the one that's been with him _every single day _for the past two _years!_" Dean slammed his closed fist on the edge of the table and Serenity and I shared a look. Both of us wanted to interrupt but both of us also valued their company enough to let it play out and let them resolve it. They were keeping their voices from being too loud anyway - it was just uncomfortable as hell for us. "Meanwhile, you've been off to college going to pep rallies! We _will _find Dad, but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there, _okay?_"

His tone made it quite clear that if Sam didn't say 'okay' then he would not be 'okay,' either.

Sam stared at the table, not answering back with 'okay' out of passive defiance. After several seconds passed and it became clear that Sam wasn't going to be a man about it, Dean looked away and picked up the newspaper again, busying his hands and brain. Sam waited another moment while Serenity and I used our respective long straws to slowly drain the water from my glass before he spoke again, with forced cheer.

"Alright. Lake Manitoc, hey!"

Dean looked over to Sam, his shoulders still raised defensively. "Huh?"

"How far?" Sam asked with a halfhearted smile.

Serenity looked to the clock up on the wall and then looked back to Sam and said with a completely straight face, "If we head out right now and go straight there with no breaks and no sleep, we can make it by five tomorrow morning."

The ridiculousness of the statement made me smile slightly, because no way were we going to go roughly twenty hours with no breaks. But Sam hadn't specified so technically Serenity had been correct. Besides, I knew she was smartassing the conversation into less dangerous territory and I appreciated it, because she can do that about as easily as she can breathe. And now is one of the times when we really needed it.

* * *

><p><em>Round and round<em>

The music died out at the end of the song on the radio while Dean pulled the keys out of the ignition and I surveyed the house in front of us. Absently, my hand snaked to my side and I unbuckled my seatbelt, letting it pull back across my abdomen while I tipped my head to one side and looked at the house. "This is the Carlton residence," I stated boredly. "Home of father Bill and his two adult children, Sophie and Will."

It was fairly isolated, down a long driveway and shaded by big pine trees. The car barely made any noise driving up, the driveway cushioned with pine needles that had fallen. It was an aging one-story house with an attic, red roofing, and poor shingles that needed to be redone. I could see the glimmer of sunlight on water through the trees from here. Supposedly they lived near the lake. There was probably a dock down the pathway that continued past the Carltons' house.

"I'm pretty sure Sophie no longer resides here," Serenity threw in, casting me an amused glance at my slip.

I rolled my eyes. "I dunno. Zombie party, maybe." Then a thought occurred to me and I glanced over at Dean in the driver's seat, my hand hovering over the door latch, about to open the door but stopping in the process. "Zombies aren't real, are they?"

Dean grimaced.

"No way!" I gasped before he could verbalize. It wasn't like he was saying no, so it was possible that zombies actually did exist… wow.

"Now _that _is one hunt I would love to be in!" Serenity laughed.

* * *

><p>A young man pulled open the door when I called my name after knocking. He was short, stocky, and very haphazard. When I twisted to look at Dean and then back to him, it was clear that Dean would loom over the younger man if placed side by side. Sam would practically dwarf him. He was several inches shorter than Serenity and I. With jean shorts that went to his calves and a brown tee thrown on, I guessed he'd been planning on having a lazy day. His black hair was kept short, only a couple inches long, but ruffled in back like he'd been lying back against a chair or bed.<p>

"Not over twenty," I decided quickly. "And that makes you William Carlton, yes?"

Will blinked owlishly before he got over the surprise. "Yeah, that's right," he answered, glancing for a second further down the path towards the lake dock. _Most people glance inside to check on their family. His dad's probably at the dock._

I offered a polite smile. It's not worth spooking him into having a hard time answering questions. "I'm SSA Holly Kasakabe, this is my sister Serenity Kasakabe, and-" I recalled the names on the false IDs that Dean had scooped up from a big lime-colored box in his glove compartment. "These are agents Ford and Hamill from the U.S. Wildlife Service." I motioned to Dean and Sam respectively. Behind me, both boys held up their IDs but put them away quickly before Will got the chance to look at them too closely. "May we see your father?"

* * *

><p>As Will walked in front of us on the way to the dock, we followed in a little blob of jeans and jackets. We didn't talk much, other than the Winchesters trying to make casual conversation. Serenity and I just shared looks whenever they accidentally said something tactless.<p>

I was thankful for the end of it when we found the end of the route and the pine and rock gave way to softer sand and smooth pebbles as the trees thinned out, the woodsy land giving way to a small beach surrounding the lake. My breath was immediately taken away. The lake was calm and peaceful, the sunlight catching it so reflections bounced up and I had to look away from those particular spots. The soft blue-green water reflected the opposite shoreline, making mirror images of beautiful, healthy green pine trees across the surface. Looking up made it seem even better, because the colors of the vegetation were so much more vivid. Brown trunks were covered with big, soft, deep green needles that looked as well as leaves would have. A few puffy cumulous clouds in the sky made it scenic, like something out of a movie. On our side, the lake gently lapped at a sandy shore that sloped gently upwards and turned to surprisingly level pebbles and sprigs of grass.

About ten yards away from the end of the trail was a dock, made entirely of wood that went out at least twenty feet over the wide water, and at the end it opened up from a rectangular walkway into a sort of square. On one edge of the square a metal bench was nailed down. On the bench, an older man sat staring over the lake water. I assumed it was Bill Carlton.

Will stopped before going to the dock, though, so I figured he had something to say. A soft tug pulled his lips down into a frown as he watched the water, waving one hand out towards the center of the lake. "She was about a hundred yards out." He pointed more specifically to a spot further out than the dock, like she'd jumped off the end and swum forwards. "That's where she got dragged down."

I caught onto the specific words he used. "Dragged?" I raised my eyebrows at him and he turned to look at me and then looked down when he met my eyes. "You're sure she didn't just drown? Yes, it's sad, but… an unusual death doesn't immediately mean foul play was involved."

"She didn't drown," Sophie's older brother insisted vehemently. "She was a varsity swimmer. She practically grew up in that lake." I could believe it. It was a beautiful lake. "She was as safe out there as in her own bathtub."

"And… no splashing?" Sam suggested gently. "No signs of distress while she was out?"

"No, that's what I'm telling you." Will's frown intensified.

"Any shadows in the water?" Serenity supplied, frowning over at the lake and probably wondering if there was some sort of American Nessie hiding out in there. "Did anything breach the surface?"

"No." Will's voice broke slightly. "Look, again, she was really far out there. I couldn't - I couldn't see everything very well."

"Have you ever seen strange tracks by the shoreline?" Dean's hands were in his pockets but I saw his biceps tense slightly as he glanced at Sam. _He's thinking something and he doesn't like it._

"No, never." Will narrowed his eyes at us. "Why? What do you think's out there?"

I took over before it became an issue and offered Will a consoling, charismatic smile. "We'll let you know the moment we do," I promised. I wasn't sure whether I'd live up to it or not. "Now, can we talk to your father?" I don't mean to seem ungrateful, because even though his sister just died, he's keeping it together and not crying and that's awesome. But walking all the way out here wasn't for the view, no matter how spectacular.

Will turned his neck to look after his father sadly before looking back reluctantly. "Look, if you don't mind - I mean, he didn't see anything, and he's kind of been through a lot."

I tightened my jaw slightly, trying not to seem too irritated, but _damn it_, bad things happen all the time to me and you don't see me not talking!

"We understand," Sam said peacefully in my place, seeming to realize that I was too irked to say it myself.

* * *

><p>The police station was pitifully small. I suppose it worked for a town this size as opposed to the spacious luxuries I was used to having, but it was lacking in lighting and tactile colors and was furnished with browns, mahoganies, and tans, making it look like the ranger's station in Colorado more than the type of station I was used to.<p>

The Sheriff - a Jake Devins - acted as his own receptionist once the four of us walked in. There weren't many people coming and going and most of them held Styrofoam coffee cups. Behind the long counter that served as a barrier between reception and the waiting area, about five feet of space was polished wood before it was obstructed by a wall with a large glass window in the side and a wide doorway with the door propped open, and this space served as the sheriff's office, with a desk that was disproportionately large to the room and a grey spinning chair on one side, along with a big, bulky computer monitor and an old, chipping mug with a child's writing proclaiming him the "number one Dad." and several miscellaneous files to the other side of the desk. The mug was no longer used for beverages and instead worked as a holder for a plethora of pencils and pens.

"Now, I'm sorry, but why does the F.B.I. care about an accidental drowning?" Jake didn't sound suspicious of me, just honestly curious and surprised, which I didn't mind, because truly, if it weren't for the supernatural component in my life now, then I wouldn't have thought twice about a drowning ruled accidental.

"Are you sure it's accidental?" I countered softly, keeping my attitude light, the way I would if I were just having a friendly debate with someone on one of my teams. "Will Carlton says he saw something pull his sister underwater. I was in town with my sister, heard the story, talked to the witness, and then decided that it might be better to look into it rather than be sorry later. We grabbed the first Service workers we found." I jerked my thumb over my shoulder at the Winchesters, who stood slightly behind Serenity and I in the office.

"Sit, please," Jake murmured, interrupting himself briefly to make a sweeping motion towards the chairs. Decked out in grey with badges and patches stuck to his uniform along with a radio and firearm, and the trademark sheriff's star, he looked very chivalrous in the action. Somehow the rugged, tussled blond hair didn't detract from the traditional sort of look. Serenity and I pulled out the two cushion-backed chairs in front of the desk and sat down while Sam awkwardly sat down on a chair pressed against the opposite wall while Dean decided to remain standing just behind Serenity and I. "There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake. There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person - unless it was the Loch Ness monster."

Serenity and I both looked up at Dean for a moment and he smirked down at us for a split second before it was gone, replaced by a fake grin as he pretended he was amused. Jake chuckled as Serenity and I laughed slightly, following Dean's lead on this one.

Jake got back to business, ever the efficient sheriff, and he leaned over the desk yet didn't take his own seat. "Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still," he sighed and fell back into his chair. "We dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there."

"So I heard," Serenity sighed. "But isn't this, what, the third missing person this year alone?"

"I wouldn't have thought anything of it, except none of the bodies were found then, too," I improvised, crossing my arms and leaning back, crossing one leg over the other.

"I know." A look of serious, intense pain passed over Jake's face for a split second that made me almost regret dragging up these memories of the other casualties. He looked like he was physically hurting because of their loss. "These are people from my town. These are people I care about."

How could I respond to that when I knew that that expression of heartbreak could easily be on my face if something ever happened to someone I loved? Someone I cared about? "I know," I answered softly, the most truthful thing I'd said so far.

Jake leaned back in his chair, the back of the furniture nearly hitting a blue filing cabinet with the paint peeling off. "Anyway…" he sighed and deliberately changed the topic. "All this… it won't be a problem much longer."

"Why not?" Serenity asked, raising her eyebrows skeptically. "Is the lake just going to disappear or are you putting up lifeguards or what?"

Jake offered her a weary, tired smile. "The dam has an issue. We won't have a lake for too much longer."

At the matter-of-fact way that he spoke, I supposed it was common knowledge, and I shot Dean and Sam both a _look_. They had to act like they knew because they were supposedly local wildlife officers.

Dean, thankfully, did do something about it, leaning back slightly and nodding. "Of course… the dam." He nodded and sent Sam an openly sentimental look. "It's sprung a leak."

"It's falling apart!" Jake corrected with a snort, not seeming to notice anything off or staged about the exchange. "The feds won't give us the grant to repair it, so they've opened the spillway. In another six months, there won't be much of a lake." He scoffed. "There won't be much of a town, either." He stopped himself before he started sounding too bitter. "But… as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that," he finished.

Sam nodded in agreement. "Exactly."

A short but solid knock made me turn around in my chair. A beautiful young woman with a tan and dark hair stood just outside the doorway, one hand extended towards the door, eyes bright and friendly. "Sorry, am I interrupting?" I glanced back to Jake and saw him already standing up, a smile spreading on his face. I looked back to her. He was pleased to see her, so he probably had some connection with her; but she was too young to be his wife or lover. _Daughter, maybe? _"I can come back later," she offered.

Sam stood up from the side and Serenity and I shared a look, reached an agreement, and spun around out of our chairs in about five seconds flat. "Gentlemen, ladies, this is my daughter," Jake introduced, motioning to the woman courteously and respectfully but with love in his eyes. I could barely resist a little smirk. _I was right._

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Dean gave a version of his charm smile that made him seem humble at the same time while he held out one hand. "I'm Dean."

Her eyes sparkled like she knew he was flirting, but she didn't seem to mind too much because she reached out to shake his hand, too. "Andrea Barr. Hi."

"Hi," Dean echoed a little stupidly.

I offered her a polite smile anyway and Serenity gave a slight wave.

"Holly Kasakabe."

"Serenity Kasakabe."

"They're from the Wildlife Service," Jake explained to Andrea, motioning to Sam and Dean both at once.

"Oh…" As Andrea murmured, the light dying slightly from her eyes, I got the feeling that maybe she was more connected to the incidents at the lake than it appeared at first. A second later, a little blonde boy walked in from around Andrea's legs, one arm touching Andrea's calf and staring up at Serenity for a long moment.

"Hey there," I called with a soft smile, dropping down onto my knees. "What's your name?"

His big, hazel-green eyes drifted to me and he watched me for a moment. It was hard to keep my smile friendly and unwavering and he lost interest, dropping his eyes to the ground anyway and shying away behind Andrea's legs, even as one of her hands landed gently in his golden hair. He pulled lightly at her sleeve and Andrea looked up, smiled at me apologetically, and then let the boy lead her away.

I was left kneeling on the ground awkwardly. I cleared my throat while Serenity smirked in amusement and I got up to my feet again.

"His name is Lucas." Jake answered my question for me once both boy and woman were out of earshot in the reception area, where Lucas was lifted up onto a stool by Andrea. She produced a twenty-four pack of Crayola crayons from her purse and held them out for him until the boy - who wore a green shirt with squares on it like Steve from _Blue's Clues _- reached out and took them, opening it carefully and appearing to be doing an inventory.

He made no other signs that he was aware someone else was with him.

"Is he alright?" I asked softly, already sympathetic. Not talking was a sign of several issues with children; some physiological, some psychological.

"My grandson's been through a lot." Jake's response was fairly guarded, although at the revelation that he, Andrea, and Lucas were all family, it was understandable. It wasn't rude, just vague. He sighed deeply, watching his family closely. "We all have." Jake pulled at his jacket, adjusting it so the star-shaped badge accidentally sent the reflective glare of the overhead lighting into my face. I cringed away from it but heard him say, "Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know."

I got over myself and held out one hand respectfully for a handshake of farewell, however temporarily I suspected it would be. "Thank you, Sheriff Devins. We'll be sure to take what you've said into consideration." The ease with which the words rolled off my tongue was almost disturbing, especially since I knew that most of it we'd blatantly disregard in the long run.

I paused as we started filing out of the door and through the reception, towards the heavy door marking the difference between indoors and fresh air. I cast a sidelong glance at Lucas. There was some sort of gut feeling that made me just want to hear him talk, which, while probably wouldn't happen if he was traumatized or impeded, bothered the hell out of me since the awkward rejection in the office.

I didn't get questioned on my motives, though, because Dean stepped out of our blob of assembled in cognito hunters to shove his hands in his pockets and smile modestly at Andrea, being the flirt he seems to be underneath the layers of machismo and deep-seated psychological issues.

"You know, now that I think of it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably-priced motel?" Dean asked Andrea hopefully, leaning slightly forward into her personal space. It wouldn't have been enough to have even mattered if he didn't lick his lips as he did so, pretending it wasn't a deliberate act.

Andrea raised her eyebrows. She definitely noticed. Her lips tugged up in a smile nonetheless and she pointed with one hand through the wall and down the street. "Lakefront Motel," she answered warmly. She seemed to have that natural, friendly, inviting countenance that people in small towns were stereotyped with. "Go around the corner and it's about two blocks south."

"Two-" Dean started to repeat, but then scrunched up his nose in mock confusion. "Would you mind showing us?" He reached up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment.

Serenity and I exchanged a look before rolling our eyes.

Andrea laughed in his face, which is probably the only reason why Serenity didn't grab Dean by the ear and start dragging. "You want me to walk you two blocks?" Mirth shone in her eyes, sparkling with the life that had left previously with the mention of Lake Manitoc.

Dean tried to appear humble and nonchalant. "Not if it's any trouble," he hastily added.

Andrea watched him for a long moment like she was trying to decide if it was worth humoring him. What she saw must have been deemed okay because a smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she had to look to her father's office to keep from grinning. "I'm headed that way anyway," she said to him before raising her voice. "I'll be back to pick up Lucas at three!" She reached to her son's hair and stroked it back, but the long blonde strands fell forward again. It was a futile battle. "We'll go to the park, okay, sweetie?" She promised, before planting a soft, loving kiss on the top of his head.

Getting out of the station was no big deal although I really wanted to go back in, scoop up Lucas, and move him out of plain view from the windows. Children don't belong in police stations. Despite stereotypes, they're not always safe. It was walking up the road and hill leading back to the majority of the tourist area that became awkward.

I sped up to catch up to and walk side by side with Andrea, leaving Serenity and Sam to make whispering bets on how long it would take Dean to give up on Andrea. She glanced to her side to see who had fallen into step beside her and she offered me a smile. I smiled right back.

"The town is beautiful," I commented. "Especially with the leaves turning."

It was true. The town was bigger than a village, smaller than a city - large enough not to be crowded, but small enough so that if you were fit, you could walk place to place. Most people seemed to know each other and everyone seemed generally friendly. It was peaceful and a place to feel at home. The temperature was nice - not too humid, and a bit warm, but the heat was tempered by a cool wind that seemed to constantly blow. Everything was close together but spacey in the buildings and through the glass doors and windows and muted pastel colors of the shops in the tourist district. It was close-knit and everything seemed done with care around the tourist hotspots.

That's not even bringing into consideration the big, leafy trees, providing shade and beauty with the light and dark shadows as well as the gorgeous colors of the leaves as autumn came in full-swing, going from green to brown with a variety of colors in between, or the breathtaking views available from the lake.

"Thanks." Andrea gave me a big smile in approval of the observation. "We take a lot of pride in our community. It's nothing like Cali or New York, but we love it and it's our home."

"It must be nice," I murmured softly. "To have a home that you love so much."

Serenity and I haven't really been in one place for very long… ever. Not since our father died in a sabotaged plane crash. For a few years we were taken care of by our mother, but we had to move around a lot even then, hence why we're so well-versed in languages. We've never really had a place to be proud of as a home. I imagine, growing up as hunters, the Winchesters were much the same.

"So…" Dean coughed as he jogged up on Andrea's other side. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and flashed her a charming grin. "Cute kid."

Andrea didn't look at him but her eyes sparkled merrily. "Thanks." I got the feeling that I could like her, if I spent time enough to actually get to know her.

She looked back and forth but didn't break her pace to cross the street from the post office to the little motel called _Lakefront Motel. _A few cars were in the parking lot out front, but not many, and it was only two stories. Lake Manitoc is scenic, but it's not like San Francisco or New York. It was painted a light pastel green color with white trims, and double doors made the entrance into the lobby.

Dean didn't give up, trying one more time. "Kids are the best, huh?" He said sportingly, giving her a bright grin. I slowed down so I was more even with Dean than with Andrea as we jumped onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel to give him a _dude, what the hell?! _expression. He gave me a helpless little shrug in response.

"There it is." Andrea stopped rather abruptly and I nearly plowed into her. She motioned to the motel in front of us before turning to face Dean and I while Serenity and Sam finished their quiet conversation about Wisconsin (I'm pretty sure Sam was telling Serenity about the last time they were here) got up onto the sidewalk and off of the street. "Like I said - two blocks."

Sam gave her a sincere smile. "Thanks."

Andrea nodded once to Sam in acknowledgment before crossing her arms and sighing at Dean sympathetically. "It must be hard, with your sense of direction." Dean looked up hopefully and started to smile again, only to be crushed as the woman finished. "Never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line." Dean's bright expression fell into a sulk and Andrea grinned at him, proud of herself, and turned to walk down the street towards whatever errands she'd been planning on completing today. "Enjoy your stay!" She called over her shoulder.

Dean turned back to the three of us from Andrea's retreating form, looking crestfallen. Serenity and I shared a smirk and fist bumped, singing to Dean, _"You just got burned!" _going a note lower for every word.

"_Kids are the best_?" Sam repeated Dean's attempt at flirting with a scoff of derision. "You don't even _like _kids!"

Dean frowned like he was affronted. "I love kids!" He argued.

Sam was unamused and didn't buy it. "Name three children that you even _know._" He challenged.

Dean held up one hand with one finger off about to tick them off, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out and he waited a second, eyebrows knitting together as he tried to remember even _one_ kid. Seeming to realize he was coming up empty, he dropped his hands and scowled at the cement sidewalk, kicking his toes lightly and still trying to figure out an answer.

Sam just stared at him before slowly shaking his head and turning to cross the parking lot to the motel.

"Hey, I'm thinking!" Dean snapped.

"Yeah, yeah." I brushed my hair out of my face, rolling my eyes at him. "Don't hurt yourself, Einstein."

* * *

><p>Serenity and I rented out a hotel room across the hall from Sam and Dean's and we went right to work getting settled in. I knew that Serenity was just as unfamiliar to the hunting shebang as I was, but one thing we were used to was being on the road. We don't generally have a lot of things with us at once - we have a couple of apartments that we keep most of our stuff at, aside from storage centers - so adapting to the Winchesters' habit of long drives and motels wasn't too difficult thus far.<p>

Serenity pulled out her laptop and sat cross-legged at the end of her twin-sized mattress. I zipped up her leather brown bomber jacket over a hangar and stepped over the long charging cord trailing from her computer to the wall in order to hang it in the closet before going back to my bed, where my duffel had been tossed onto the edge and opened to my miscellaneous road trip belongings.

I looked through my things, humming while I did so and putting everything in its temporary place. When I wasn't working, my outfit generally consisted of jeans and tees. I had an extra pair of high boots in case sneakers weren't dressy enough. I had some books, some that I wanted to read and some that Serenity was forcing me to read, and a bag of toiletries with some cosmetics. Other than that, most of what I carried with me was electronic with the exception of notebooks and pencils. I had a Smartphone Galaxy, an iPod, .Mp3 player, laptop, and Omni Tablet. Serenity and I always carry two or three pairs of headphones at any given time because we're prone to breaking them on accident.

I stared at my collection of science fiction books, crime novels, and sketchbooks with lazy drawings of whatever struck my fancy at the time. _No wonder I didn't strike the Winchesters as the hunting type. _I sighed wearily before gathering a couple of books in my arms, carrying them to the bedside table, before stuffing the rest back in my duffel. I left out a pencil and a notebook for dreaming.

It's not my idea, really, although it's not really a bad one. With my job, I've seen a lot of bad things, and with that comes a therapist. My therapist told me to try to keep a journal for after I had nightmares or odd dreams. Not long after, Serenity read about lucid dreaming and decided that since, in theory, you can be a God and do anything in your dreamscape, it sounded pretty awesome. She has a journal, too, and the theory is that if you write down your dreams and/or draw what you see, then you can become better at distinguishing between dream and reality. With that understanding comes the ability to realize that you're dreaming while you're still asleep.

A knock sounded at the door and Serenity called, "Come in," without looking up from her laptop. As the door was pushed open, I looked away from shuffling my books and notebook all to fit on the table in time to see Dean kick the door closed behind Sam with the back of his heel.

Dean threw himself down on one side of my bed and then made a show of sighing in exhaustion. With effort, he rolled over onto his back. Sam remained more civil and sat down in a chair by the window.

"Good to see you're comfy," I told Dean sarcastically, rolling my eyes and tossing one of my shirts at him in retribution. "You can hang my clothes if you're so at home."

Dean lifted the shirt off of his face and unfolded it to see what it was. It was grey, with the front cover of the Daughtry album _Leave This Town_. He made a face. "Daughtry? Who're they?"

I rolled my eyes. "That's it. Next time we go by any place that sells music, I'm getting you _Daughtry, Leave This Town, Break the Spell, _and _Baptized._ And you are going to listen to _every _song, on _every _album." I punctuated my point by dropping my duffel onto the floor by the side of the bed and then by throwing myself on the other side of the mattress from him.

Serenity leaned away from her computer and towards Sam. In an awful mimicry of a stage whisper, she confided, "I can't tell if she's irritated or trying to flirt."

I raised one hand towards her in a rude gesture.

"Ah. Never mind, I think I figured it out." I received a mirror image of the gesture and smiled slightly at the familiarity of the argument.

"So, there's three drowning victims this year," Sam started, and the atmosphere grew more serious. I was a bit disappointed, to be honest. I knew that if it weren't for hunting, Sam and Dean probably wouldn't want anything to do with Serenity and I, and the only reason they're really letting us tag along is because I can keep them out of too much trouble and if we tried hunting on our own we'd probably end up killed. But still, I liked to think by the way we interacted that we were friends, so it was nice to have some fun playing around without talking about women in white and formerly-human monsters.

But hunting isn't meant to be fun; it's meant to be a job. Hunt down the monsters and save civilians. Which is pretty much my job with the FBI, except "monsters" used to be figurative instead of literal.

"You can't figure this town is mysteriously free of actual drowning accidents. Not everyone is a fish in water," I considered, turning my head to one side so my right cheek was pressed to the pillow as I looked over at Serenity. "If you go back further to last year, were any of the bodies on the death list found?"

I waited as patiently as possible for her to look it up and briefly I wondered why Sam had forsaken his laptop in his room before figuring that they had probably meant to get us for food and gotten sidetracked.

"There were two alleged drowning victims last year within a six-month period, raising the count to five within the last two years, including Sophie Carlton, but none of the bodies were found."

"And when was the lake dredged?" I asked, thinking that maybe it was possible that Sophie's body had been missed by the sweep somehow.

"After the second victim, and again after Sophie." Serenity had a scanned manuscript lighting up her computer screen from an old newspaper. "First there was an adult male, then a twelve year old girl last year."

"Six more were spread out over the past thirty-five years," Sam added with a wince at the number going higher and higher. "Those bodies were never recovered, either."

"It goes from six in four decades to five in eighteen months?" My frown became more pronounced and I looked back up to the ceiling, crossing my arms over my stomach. "What's the stressor?" I murmured, more to myself than anything.

"Well, if it's a spirit, I'm guessing that death was the original stressor," Dean threw in with a roll of his eyes.

I looked over at him as he laid next to me and stuck my tongue out at him. "No, I'm thinking about it like a profiler, not a hunter. Something's causing people's deaths. It killed a few over thirty-five years? Not good, but it's not exactly making a buffet out of things. But in the last eighteen months alone it's killed as many as it did in nearly four decades. There has to be a reason it's picking up the pace, and that reason is what's referred to as a stressor; something that intervenes and either stresses the antagonist's psyche or interferes with its rituals."

"What about the lake?" Serenity suggested. I rolled onto my side to face her again, lifting one arm up under my pillow to further cushion my head, silently urging her to continue. "Well, sheriff boy down at the station said the lake was going to get drained. If it's tethered to the lake, then they're taking away it's home."

"What makes you think it's tethered to the lake?"

"Why else would every single death happen via drowning in the lake in question?"

"Point."

"So, what, we've got a lake monster on a binge?" Dean scoffed but I wasn't entirely sure whether he was derisive because it was ridiculous or because he didn't like it.

"... Is that possible?" I ventured.

He groaned softly. "Unfortunately, something like it is."

"Oh, wonderful."

Sam shook his head, sighing and closing his eyes against the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the blinds. "This whole "lake monster" theory, it… it just bugs me."

"Why?" Serenity asked curiously, probably wondering how he can be down with ghosts and wendigos but not with aquatic monsters.

"Loch Ness, uh, Lake Champlain." I wasn't entirely sure what Sam's point was at first, but I recognized the names of both locations easily. Both were bodies of water supposedly inhabited by a marine life form unknown to humans as of yet; some theorists that are really into these things believe that Nessie might actually be a plesiosaur that mysteriously avoided extinction millions and millions of years ago. "There are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but here, there's almost nothing."

"Whatever _is _in Lake Manitoc has no reports." I shrugged as best as I could while lying down on the hotel bed, comforter soft and smooth under me. I turned my cheek against the quilt and for a moment I wanted to forsake hunting and take a long nap under the covers. What were the chances of convincing them that after driving for so long and jumping right in, we deserved to take some time off? Don't get me wrong, I understand the severity of the circumstances, but I also know that working on low energy isn't a good idea. I can do it for a long time but eventually reflexes slow and you miss important things. "Doesn't mean it's not there - it just means no one's still alive to tell about it."

"Well, it sure chooses inopportune times to strike," Serenity noted. "This guy, Christopher Barr, was drowned last year during an annual festival."

I whistled. "I hope for the civilians' sake that the punch was spiked." I recognized the surname; _Barr, like Lucas and Andrea. _The victim of the lake was probably Andrea's late husband.

"So Devins was right; this is close to home, striking people he cares about." I cast a wary glance at the hunter lying next to me. "Guys, you have to be careful with this one. No being callous and making rude comments about the quality of the police work. They get pissed, they look into your identities, and if they find that you're faking then I can't do much to prove them wrong. Best case scenario, they threaten you into leaving and refuse to cooperate. In a town like this, the sheriff's going to have the locals under his thumb. Everyone trusts and loves him."

"You think this is our first time doing this?" Dean complained about my warnings but he didn't seem genuinely agitated.

"Well, that _is _kind of what you get out of us teaming up; law advisement and advantage."

Serenity coughed to get our attention. She knew she'd have it so she went ahead and started talking again. "Christopher Barr was Lucas's biological father and Andrea's husband. Apparently, he took Lucas out for a swim. The kid was on a floating platform when his dad drowned and it was estimated two hours before he was rescued by authorities."

"Maybe we have an eyewitness after all," Sam murmured in surprise.

I sighed, stretching at the same time and straightening my legs, feeling the delightful loosening of tension as I unwound. "A trauma like that would explain his mutism," I remarked.

"Well, no wonder that kid was so freaked out." Dean spoke softly but with a touch of his rough demeanor. "Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over." But I knew he was serious and sincere, too. I wouldn't be surprised from his tone if he had seen his mother's death, like Serenity and I. Our mother had been caught in a gas leak-induced house fire while we were at daycare when we were little children, and our father had died in a plane crash. After each event, young as we were when our parents died, I could recall the period of weeks afterwards when I never felt safe and constantly wanted to know my sister was okay, too.

I cleared my throat. I didn't need to be thinking about this; not now, especially, when I still need to adjust to living with the supernatural and hunting down the things that go bump in the night. Rolling over onto my stomach, I drew closer to Dean and yanked a pillow down under my chin, letting my head roll to one side as I let my eyes fall shut. "Well, I'm taking a nap while Serenity checks her emails. We wanna talk to our witness? Andrea said she'd take Lucas to the park at three. Wake me up when it's time to go."

I didn't particularly care that the guys were with us. Serenity and I are used to having each other's backs; it's so instinctive we don't even have to wonder about it anymore. If I'd been asleep when they came in, then she wouldn't have let either of them near me if she thought they were a threat, but as it was I highly doubt they're untrustworthy. Both of them have proved to me that not only do they have morals that fit the same basic principles as mine, but that they take care of themselves and value the lives of others. Their law-breaking is unethical but from what I've seen they do it for information, shelter, and food - which are all necessities for a job. What's a fake credit report in comparison to saving lives and preventing future deaths?

As a federal, I should probably be weary of prodding at either one of those guys with a ten-foot pole, but I'm nineteen and escalated quickly up the ranks of the FBI in an almost too-easy way while my sister became the leader of the organized crime society. I suppose that for me, logic just doesn't always apply.


	8. Dead in the Water: Hyponatremia

"Holly, wake up." Large hands on my shoulders shook me lightly against the mattress and the increasingly familiar voice told me as I woke that I wasn't in danger.

I sighed and rolled over, throwing my arms out as I pushed myself onto my back. I looked up at the ceiling and blinked several times, waiting for everything to come into focus. I let my cheek roll back onto the pillow to see the digital clock on the stand between Serenity's and my mattress. The red glowing letters told me it was about ten minutes before three and I looked up to Sam, standing over me in awkward concern to make sure I was getting up.

Through the time that had passed, Dean had remained lying down but gotten up and left the room later on, likely to go back to the boys' hotel room. There were still wrinkles in the comforter where he'd been laying down. Serenity was still on her bed and on her computer, but she had since unplugged her laptop and now lay flat on her stomach, legs kicking lazily in the air with the computer in front of her. There was a book that neither of us owned at the table where Sam had been, so I assumed that it was probably his.

"Ready to go to the park?" I asked through a yawn, stretching my jaw right after.

"Yeah, if Sleeping Beauty is ready to get off the bed anytime soon," Serenity snorted, rolling her eyes for the moment that she looked away from the screen.

"Whatever, Maleficent." Maleficent and Sleeping Beauty/Aurora were both in the same Disney movie. Serenity and I love anime and horror, and I like crime and science, but we revisit our childhood roots in Disney quite often. "What have you been doing?"

"Tumbling down Tumblr," Serenity answered with a pleased smile. "I couldn't find anything suspicious in Manitoc's history before the first victim."

I hadn't decided yet which part of hunting was more difficult; on one hand, there was the physical aspect, which involved the actual danger and fighting, like when the wendigo had gotten the drop on me and Serenity, Dean, and I all shot it. On the other hand, there was the work that went into finding out what was actually going on - what it was, when it started, which deaths were related, et cetera.

I sat up and covered my mouth while I yawned again. Sam went back to grab his book from the table. I reached up with the other hand to pat my hair and make sure it was alright, but when I tried to brush my hand from my neck through the lower half of my hair, I grimaced at the tangles.

"Just let me brush my hair and I'll grab my things."

I went into the bathroom, leaving Sam and Serenity out by the beds, and unzipped my bag. Serenity and I have different handbags that we carry bathroom supplies in; hers is made of recycled products and has the brighter colors in the rainbow, whereas mine was store bought and dark blue with periwinkle paisleys.

I brushed out my hair before grabbing a purple ponytail holder and raking back my hair. My fringe had grown out long so that I could pull it back into a ponytail with the rest of my hair and keep it out of my face. I tied it up quickly and then grabbed an extra elastic band just in case I needed it, pulled it over my wrist, and then looked in the mirror. With the addition of my lightweight black jacket, I'd look enough like a civilian to be approachable but enough like law enforcement to be considered a figure of authority. One thing my job has always been good for is gaining the trust of most people on sight. Society is conditioned to trust people in uniform and authority because we teach our children that police, firefighters, doctors, and et cetera are the good guys. It proves useful to me in most cases but sometimes it's difficult to find a murderer when they're lured away by a uniformed officer gone corrupt.

I stepped out and moved around the room quickly, getting my things together. I belted my gun around my waist and got my badge, sliding the credentials into my pocket before my wallet joined it. Moments later I picked up my phone, iPod, and headphones and used a karabiner to attach them to a belt loop of my jeans, holding them in a little turquoise fabric bag from Istanbul before shrugging on my jacket.

"You guys ready?"

* * *

><p>I was a bit disappointed that I wasn't eight years old anymore, because Lake Manitoc really did have a nice, well-kept playground, despite that there weren't all that many children. A fairly large space was covered in little wood chips to cushion any children if they tripped or fell. A standard black grated platform was attached to a set of wide stairs and both a straight and curvy slide, with an extension of monkey bars moving in a gently-curved 'S'. To the side was a set of four swings - two were the normal kind, but another two were made for little children. Surrounding the play set was a large, grassy space with benches for parents and teens watching over the little ones. Currently, a little pigtailed girl was trying to go across the monkey bars while a teenage boy with headphones around his neck held her by her sides, keeping her in the air.<p>

Andrea sat on a bench looking over the playground nostalgically while a little ways away, Lucas was seated on the ground with his legs under another wooden bench. On the bench were several pieces of construction paper and a big box of crayons.

"Can we join you?" Sam asked Andrea politely. The woman looked up, squinting slightly against the sunlight to see Sam, Dean, Serenity, and I standing together to the side of the bench.

Andrea waved one hand towards Lucas apologetically. "I'm here with my son."

Dean looked over to the little blonde boy. This time I felt as though he was really seeing the child, probably in light of the knowledge that Lucas, like himself, had witnessed the death of a parent. "Mind if I say hi?" He asked, already setting off in long, confident strides across the grass without waiting for Andrea's answer.

I rolled my eyes. _Well, at least he's given up on getting laid by her._

Andrea watched Dean's back for a moment before looking back up to me. "Tell your friend, this whole _Jerry Maguire _thing is not gonna work on me."

It was hard not to smile. She was far from correct. He went to go ask her son about her late husband's death; not to try to win her favor. "I'll make sure he knows," I promised, giving Serenity a slight wave before stepping to the side, away from the three adults, and going after Dean and Lucas.

Dean sat himself down on the edge of the bench, close to Lucas but not close enough to feel invasive. "How's it going?" He asked casually. His eye caught on one of Lucas's pale green plastic soldier miniatures, and he picked it up. "I used to love these things," he reminisced, before jerking it up to mimic the backlash of a gun while he pretended to make the sounds of a gun. He watched Lucas for a moment before sighing slightly and setting it back down on top of the construction paper pad.

I got on my knees on the other end of the bench, shooting Dean a look for missing the main part of what to say upon meeting children. "Hey, Lucas," I said softly, giving him a gentle smile. He didn't look up; the sun beat down on his blonde hair while the kid just kept coloring with a blue crayon. I knew he wasn't going to suddenly start talking so I continued despite the lack of response. Lucas was listening, I knew. "My name is Holly. This guy here is Dean. Our sister and brother are Ser and Sam." I smiled slightly. "Easy to remember, right?"

Lucas paused in his drawing for a moment. I was slightly hopeful that he would make some sign of acknowledgment, but other than the slight hesitation before he reached for a green crayon, he gave no sign that he knew we were talking to him.

"So, crayons is more your thing?" Dean nodded in understanding. "That's cool. Chicks dig artists."

I gave Dean another look. At this rate, poor Lucas was going to end up in the "sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll" clique if he listened to Dean. I looked over Lucas's head and to the little pile of drawings on the other side. I could see a simple red bicycle on one; the other worried me a little. It was made with tones of light and dark black and blue, in a large swirling vortex across the paper.

_A whirlpool…? _I wondered silently. The colors could be either wind or water, but the way it was drawn made it seem more aerial than anything. _Is it relevant to the lake?_ Either way, the dark tones being drawn by a traumatized child seemed almost as concerning as the lack of speech or the apparent apathy to his mother.

Dean followed my gaze towards the pictures. "Hey, these are pretty good," he praised enthusiastically. "D'you mind if I sit and draw with you for a while?" Obviously, Lucas wouldn't reply. Dean picked up a piece of paper and the construction notebook, pressing it against his lap for a flat surface before taking a grey crayon from the _Crayola _box.

I looked between both boys for a moment as Dean started making a stick figure. I chose not to comment. I looked back to Lucas sympathetically. It was peaceful; Dean and Lucas were not threats, the wind wasn't strong, but the temperature was warm. It was genuinely nice here.

"You know, Lucas," I said softly, with less cheer than I had kept up before now. "We know you can hear us. And I know you just don't want to talk. And that's okay. We know you saw something. Maybe you're scared, or maybe you just don't feel like talking. It's all good, we just want you to listen and know that we're here to help you." I was totally honest. I never had been able to outright lie to children, unless I was telling them that everything was under control when really, I felt like a case was making the world crash and fall around me.

I reached out with my arms, carefully setting my forearms on the edge of the bench, careful to be near but not to intimidate. "I don't know exactly what happened to your dad," I said slowly, trying to choose my words with care. "But I know that it was something really bad, and… I think I know how you feel. When I was a kid, I lost people I loved. When I was around your age, I lost my mom. I remember being really scared." I tensed slightly, looking away from Dean. I normally wouldn't tell anyone this, but I wasn't too adverse to Dean knowing. It was more the thought of making myself emotionally vulnerable that had me shying away from the thought.

Dean cleared his throat and he kept his eyes carefully on the paper. "Anyway… maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or, uh… or believe you. I want you to know that I - we - will. You don't even have to say anything." He glanced over at Lucas hesitantly, wary of seeing what the boy was doing, how he was reacting. "You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake."

"I know we're adults, and you probably don't trust us." I shrugged slightly, modest and humble. I knew how children saw me when they met me. I was tall, armed with something they'd recognize as a weapon, and I came across as either cold or mean going by my tone alone. If they first saw me in a fight, I couldn't blame them at all for being afraid. "But all we want to do is help. Whatever happened to your dad… whatever you saw… it's happened to other people, too, and all we want to do is stop it from happening again."

I looked up to Dean when Lucas didn't even look up. If anything, his head bent further down so that I couldn't see his face.

Dean sighed but tried to cover it up, likely so Lucas didn't think he was angry or annoyed. "Okay, no problem. This is for you." He slid the paper off of the pad on his lap, pushing it down on the bench next to Lucas. He had made four stick figures, all different heights, one with long hair. "This is my family." He pointed at each person as he said who they were. "That's my dad. That's my mom… that's my geek brother." He chuckled. "And that's me."

This time, Lucas looked to the picture, glancing up swiftly to see the drawing but looking away as soon as he noticed that both of the adults on either side of him were watching.

Dean admitted defeat reluctantly, pushing himself off the bench and onto his feet. "Alright, so I'm a sucky artist. I'll see you around, Lucas," he sighed softly, pulling at the collar of his leather jacket.

I offered Lucas a smile as I stood up above him before turning to walk next to Dean back to our siblings. "You have a good day, Lucas."

During the thirty-second walk back to the other three, I didn't say anything about his confession of seeing something "bad" happen to his mom.

"Lucas hasn't said a word, not even to me." Andrea and Serenity were sitting on the bench next to each other while Sam stood at Serenity's side, leaning slightly against a tree about two feet away. Andrea spoke with the beginning strain of crying and I noted that her head was ducked so that we couldn't get a clear view of her eyes, which were probably watering with tears. "Not since his dad's accident."

"Yes, we heard about that." Serenity was unlike most people and like me at the same time. We don't empathize the way most people do. If we hear about something bad, then we know it's sad and we know how we should feel. We've just seen so many bad things that a lot doesn't hit us with the severity that it should. Yet Serenity sounded genuinely sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

Andrea just closed her eyes and nodded.

"What are the doctors saying?" Sam ventured gently.

Andrea swallowed and blinked rapidly, trying to push back the emotions that she didn't want to deal with in company. "That it's some sort of post-traumatic stress."

"It can't be easy," Serenity said, before adding as an afterthought, "For either of you."

"We moved in with my dad," Andrea explained. "He helps out a lot." She smiled affectionately. Clearly, the sheriff was a family man. Andrea seemed to hold a lot of respect and fondness for him. "It's just… when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw-" she broke off, pausing, and looked down to her lap, unable to verbalize what she was thinking.

"Kids are strong," Dean put in supportively. "You'd be surprised what they can deal with." _And you'd know from experience, wouldn't you?_

I looked back over to Lucas. One thing that religion had on us Atheists is that we have to deal with bad things happening and coping with it on our own; turning to music and friends helped, but sometimes we ended up going to sex, drugs, and alcohol. They got to take comfort in believing that there were all-powerful entities protecting them from the greater hells. How was Lucas going to reconcile his beliefs with what he saw happen to his dad? A little boy growing up with an old-fashioned grandfather and an even-tempered, no-nonsense mother would hardly feel at liberty to discuss the horror of seeing anything supernatural kill his father.

Lucas was getting up to his feet, using the bench to push himself up from the ground. Now I could see his clothes; they were loose, like he'd lost weight. I wondered if there was something we were missing. Maybe he wasn't just not talking; was he not eating, either? Not sleeping?

He held a piece of construction paper in his hands and he kept his head down, walking facing the ground over to us. I would have guessed he was ready to go, but he left his toys, crayons, and paper on the bench.

"You know, he used to have such life…" Andrea sighed when she saw where I was looking, and I had to note how it sounded like she was mourning. "He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just… sits there." She sounded dejected, at a loss. "Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish-" she cut herself off when Lucas joined the group. "Hey, sweetie."

Lucas didn't acknowledge his mom, just trooped on between Sam and Dean and walked up to me. He held up the paper with tense shoulders and slightly-shaking hands, but he refused to look at me, keeping his eyes level with the thighs of my jeans.

I figured any progress was better than none, though, so although I was surprised, I took the picture gently. "Thanks, Lucas," I said quietly, trying not to spook him any more than he obviously already was.

Lucas didn't respond in any way other than to turn around, bow his head again, and march back away between the Winchesters and towards the bench with his toys and crayons. I lifted the paper up to look at it and felt a slight frown tugging at my lips. The drawing was crude, as most childrens' drawings are, but Lucas's practice had done him a great deal of good and it was easy to identify the building in the drawing as Will, Bill, and (formerly) Sophie Carlton's residence by the lake.

* * *

><p>I left my friends to stay at the inn while I went in search of a convenience store. I wanted to get some basic supplies for our stay at the motel; not much, just some snacks, water, and plastic cups - that sort of thing.<p>

I found one on the edge of the main area about a block from the lake, but I got sidetracked before going in when I heard distant screams. I stopped, frozen in my tracks, and listened intently for something beyond the pleasant, soft birdsong and occasional revving of a car engine before I heard it again; a man, screaming for help.

I first thought that it would be another victim of the lake, but scratched that immediately. If he were drowning, he wouldn't be able to scream. I broke into a dead run, bolting across the parking lot of the convenience store and towards the source of the screaming that sounded louder and more heartbroken the closer I got. I realized with a sinking heart that I was running straight towards the Carlton house and briefly considered phoning Serenity and the boys.

I stopped for a moment just on top of a hill that descended towards the trail winding to the lake, passing Will's house on the way, and saw the home in question. I recognized Bill Carlton from when I'd seen him sitting on the pier, calling out desperately and continuously looking back towards the house.

_If he were in danger, he'd be running away. His daughter died and he's mourning, isolating himself. The only person who would be in the house aside from him is Will._

The short, guarded, but within-reason-friendly man had seemed safe and familiar with the water, and he'd seemed sensible enough, so I hadn't considered that maybe Sophie was just the first strike. I half-ran, half-slid down the slope towards Bill, surprised that no one else had already come to the source of the pitched shouts. _Small towns… this would be a con,_ I admitted.

"Sir!" I had to raise my voice to get his attention as I stumbled over a large patch of leaves covering an unexpected dip in the ground before I reached the dirt and gravel trail. "What's wrong?"

"You have to help my son!" Now that I looked closer, I could see that he had tears running down his face. His face was red, eyes manic, and he was unshaven, unkempt, and in wrinkled clothes. _Grief management. Time to get past the denial stage._

I grasped his shoulders lightly, trying to cut some sense into him through the sensation. "Where is he?" In my mind, there were a dozen theories already developing - from a rendition of the Michael Myers movies to a killer toy (well, sure, _Child's Play _was supernatural, but it wouldn't be too strange at this point!), I had about a hundred ways or someone to die or be maimed listed out in my head within five seconds.

"In the house-" He was shaking, face twisted up in horror. I let go of him abruptly, kicking up gravel behind my feet as I ran.

I wasn't sure what I would find, but the house looked pretty much the same at the entryway as it had before. The hallway had a set of stairs leading up to the attic to the right, and to the left it opened up into a living room. The TV was turned on to static, a beer bottle with condensation around the sides sitting on a table next to a dark armchair. To the left of that was the kitchen; bare, empty, with dim lighting. Most of what I could see was illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the blinds of the windows.

And that was how I saw Will Carlton lying limp on the kitchen floor.

"Call 9-1-1!" I shouted, knowing that Bill would have followed me inside. Everyone does; they have help, they go to their loved ones' sides, both to stay with them for comfort and to make sure their "help" isn't fucking things up even more.

I rolled the prone figure over onto his back and grimaced when I saw how pale he was, his skin almost ashen with the last of the color leaving his face and neck. His bangs were stuck together in thin locks, drying of liquid, while his front was splashed with water.

I pressed my fingers to his neck and cursed when I found no pulse before I set one hand on his chest, just under his heart. With the other, I pulled back and made a fist, before reeling forward and hitting over his heart soundly. His body jerked slightly with the sudden pressure but he fell limp again, jaw opening slightly and some water trickling out of his mouth.

_Dead._

I knew he was already gone - probably long since, but I couldn't just not try, right? If it was at all possible that Will had only been out for one or two minutes, it was still possible for cardiopulmonary resuscitation to be successful.

I tipped his head back and pinched his nose shut, leaning down over him and pressing my lips to his. I nearly pulled back by the cool temperature of his already blue lips but breathed out into his lungs before pulling back and leaning over again, this time clasping one hand over the other and compressing over his heart.

No dice.

I swallowed. _Without defibrillators, cardiopulmonary resuscitation is only effective seven percent of the time. And only when immediately following the point of unconsciousness._

I sighed, closing my eyes, and shook my head. There was really nothing I could do, no matter if I didn't like it, but I swung one leg over his stomach and straddled him, keeping my hands interlocked. I pressed just under his lungs and pushed my hands up firmly, repeating the motion several times. If I stimulated the muscle enough, then even without the internal reactions, it was possible to see if he could choke up water.

True to form, on the fourth time I tried, water was pushed up through his throat and spilled through his lips onto the wooden floor.

I slowly pulled back, not liking the situation any more than I had thirty seconds ago. If anything, I liked it even less. Looking around the kitchen, nothing seemed suspicious or out of place, and there was certainly no means of ascertaining how Will had managed to die of pulmonary edema on dry land. He'd had to have thrust his head underwater, but the only way he could have done that is if he'd tried the sink.

I stood up slowly and stepped around the corpse to look at the wide stainless steel sink in the counter. The nozzle was turned and the drain was unplugged, but it was over a foot deep and over two feet wide. Definitely deep enough to drown in, then, although why would he drown himself? Grief makes people do stupid things, but if it were in tribute to Sophie, then he would have gone to the lake, not the kitchen sink.

I eyed the drain suspiciously. Several drops of filthy, black water clung around the ring of the drain, having not completely succumbed to gravity and suction. I wanted to reach in and see if there was anything in the pipes but I have seen _way _too many horror movies to even momentarily consider putting my hand down a sink drain, where there happens to be narrow pipes and garbage disposal blades ready to slice things to ribbons.

I did the next best thing and instead reached out to turn on the nozzle. The water that came out from the spout was clear, not the putrid black that had previously been in the sink.

_If it didn't come from the plumbing… then how did it get in the sink?_

And why - or rather, what - had caused Will Carlton to drown?

* * *

><p>I slipped inside the gap between the door and the frame into Serenity's and my hotel room, shutting it quite loudly behind me. I was irritated and upset by what had just happened - as a sort-of doctor, I always feel like I didn't do enough when someone dies, even though I know that blaming myself for not saving Will Carlton is not only useless, but also stupid.<p>

"Where's my chocolate?" Serenity scowled at me from the bed, where she and Sam were both sitting. Sam had his legs over the side while Serenity had scooted up further on the mattress to sit with her legs crossed, and both of them had out their laptops.

"Not now," I ground out between my teeth. "I just got back from the Carlton house. Will Carlton, Sophie's brother, is dead."

This seemed to strike the other three in the room and Dean even paused from where he was sitting in one of the chairs by the rounded table, leaned over and untying his shoe. I guess none of them expected it and quite honestly, I hadn't either. It always comes as a nasty shock when you learn about the first death on a case since you were put on it; it's always worse when you've met the person beforehand.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, already frowning in discontent and shifting back into his serious hunter mood.

"I heard screaming from the street. Bill Carlton wanted help because he found his son lying on the kitchen floor. I had to go in and try to do CPR before breaking the news that he was _dead._ Pulmonary edema." I looked away from Dean and up to the ceiling, entirely too aggravated by this.

Sam raised his eyebrows incredulously. "He drowned?"

"Yep." I clapped my hands on my thighs in frustration. "In the _sink,_" I spat.

"What the hell?" Dean and Serenity voiced at the exact same time. Dean continued, whereas Serenity seemed to have gotten her point across. "So this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else."

"Something that controls water," I added, throwing myself down on the empty bed and toeing my shoes off, letting them fall with thuds to the ground. "There was filthy water in the sink that didn't come from the tap. I checked out the showers and sinks throughout the house, they all seem fine. It came from somewhere else."

"Water wraith, maybe?" Dean suggested, shaking his head slightly and looking to the table. "Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water… water that comes from the same source."

"The lake," Sam realized.

"Well, that explains why it's upping the body count, at least," Serenity put in helpfully, shrugging slightly like she was getting something off of her shoulders. "The lake is draining, it'll barely even be a lake in a couple of months. If it wants people dead, it's gotta kill them now."

Dean lifted up one hand to rub his forehead wearily. "And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere." He stood up, shoe still half untied, and paced across the room towards the door before turning around back to us. "This is gonna happen again, soon."

"But we do know one thing for sure," Sam pointed out, already reaching to gently set his laptop aside. "We know this has got something to do with Bill Carlton."

"Yeah, it's killed both of his children." I scowled. "What the hell makes this thing think it can play God? If it's got a problem with someone, then it should at least grow a pair and take it up with the person in question, not kill a dozen innocent people."

"Look, I searched the legal records of Christopher Barr," Serenity interrupted me before I could start off on an indignant rant. "Lucas's dad was Bill Carlton's godson."

"Something wants revenge on Bill Carlton, so it starts taking away everything that he has," Sam hypothesized.

"By immediate or by extension?" I asked, straightening my back, ready to jump up and go. "Because if it's going to keep branching out, then Lucas, Andrea, and the sheriff are all in danger, too."

"I don't know." Dean's eyes darkened slightly at the prospect of so many more people's deaths, made all the more difficult to fight because we can't tell when or where it will strike. "Let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit."

I shrank back. I didn't want to go to see Bill Carlton after having said I would help and then having to tell him that his son was dead. I didn't know if I could handle the hostility and accusations that were likely to crop up as a result.

"Um, you guys go," I mumbled, already reaching for my laptop resting on the table between the beds. "I haven't checked my email since we were in Jericho. I probably have a lot to reply to."

* * *

><p>I had too many emails.<p>

Some of them were updates, but most of them were follow-ups trying to figure out where I was, what I was doing, why I wasn't replying to messages or emails, and if I'd been kidnapped and sold into a sex ring. Yeah, I don't really get it either. I was surprised that so many people seemed concerned about my lack of responses - even people like FBI Agent Victor Henriksen, who I'd only talked to in person a couple of times.

As a result, I ended up starting to type a mass email, but it took me a while to write. Obviously I didn't want my colleagues searching for me. I can't explain to them that their boss has proof that life as most people know it is a total lie. And if they find me, they might find that I've been paying in conjunction with a bunch of people that don't technically exist, and that might bring them onto the boys' trail.

I ended up taking twenty minutes to figure out how to send a message that would do what I wanted it to without raising the suspicion of any of the people I worked with - miscellaneous members of law enforcement and FBI, and some forensic laboratories.

_I know I haven't been answering emails. No, I'm not in trouble, no, I'm not ill, no, I've not been sold into any sort of kidnapping, slave, and/or sex trafficking organization. I've just been busy for the past week, is all._

_I am no longer in California, however I am working on a case. For an undetermined amount of time I will be taking leave from official work. My sister and I are going on a road trip. If anyone needs help from me, do not hesitate to contact me. I will not be coming in to office until an indefinite time in the future._

_You can still email me at this email address. In case of an emergency or urgent notification, my personal phone number is (XXX) XXX-XXXX._

After that I went through some case references and advised my colleagues on how to proceed. It took up most of my time but once I finally hit the last dozen, my phone buzzed on the counter.

_We think Lucas might know something, since he drew you that picture of the Carlton house, so we're going to Andrea's house. Dean wants you to bring the Impala. He says the keys are in his room. Our spare for theirs is in the second drawer down in the dresser. -Serenity_

In a follow-up message immediately after, Serenity texted me the address.

Reluctantly I closed up my laptop and slid it under a pillow before grabbing the room key from the dresser. The four of us had all agreed that we should be able to get to each other in case of emergency, so while we had our own room keys, we also kept one of theirs in our room. I pulled on my jacket, grabbed my things, and listened for the lock to click on the door before crossing the hall and sliding in the keycard, waiting for the room to unlock.

I stepped inside quickly and grabbed the car keys from next to the television and cast a look around, just to make sure that nothing seemed too out of place. I was always protective over my friends, so making sure nothing had been set up seemed like a natural task. My eyes landed on their dad's field journal on one bed - given that it was the bed that hadn't been made, I guessed it was Dean's.

It was tucked half out of sight under a blanket, but I picked it up gently. It was thick, leather bound, and heavy. It made me wonder how long their dad had been hunting, to have collected all of this information. The experience, the knowledge, drawings, Anasazi, Latin - it all had to come from years of practice and first-hand accounts. Was it a family bloodline thing or did it start with their dad?

I was about to open it and look through curiously before I stopped myself. They met me not long ago and while I'd gone through more taxing events with them than most people I've met, I'd rather not violate the trust they'd given me by going through something so personal. If they invited it, it was one thing - snooping around was another. I opened a dresser drawer and slid the journal into the back, making a mental note to tell Dean that I'd moved it for safekeeping.

* * *

><p>Andrea also lived near the lake, in a light blue-painted two-story building next to the shoreline with a short pier going out over the water, surrounded by some light forest. After pulling the Impala into the driveway, I'd gone right on in and followed their voices up to the second floor.<p>

"I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea," Andrea apologized nervously. I caught Dean's eyes and tossed him the keys to his car in an underhanded throw, joining Serenity in the hallway. We stood just outside of one room with the door pushed wide open - peering inside, I determined that it was Lucas's room, with the lavender walls, plush cream carpet, and small twin-sized bed. The room was surprisingly neat. The furniture was in place, the closet door closed, toys lined up immaculately against the wall. The only things out of place were Lucas, lying sprawled on his stomach on the rug, and his drawings and crayons in front of him.

"I just need to talk to him," Dean tried to say, his voice soft as he looked at Lucas. I was pleased to note that he seemed focused more on Lucas than Andrea, keeping his priorities straight in his mind.

"Just for a few minutes," I added, offering Andrea a reassuring smile. Although I'd literally just joined it, it wasn't hard to tell that Andrea was only trying to be protective of her son. Unfortunately, she was protecting him from the wrong people.

Andrea hesitated, still leaning against the wall uncertainly, more for support than out of exhaustion. "He won't say anything," she reminded us with a frown. "What good will it do?"

How was I actually supposed to explain that?

"Andrea," Sam started, voice soft and delicate. "We think more people might get hurt. We think something's happening out there."

"My husband, the others - they just _drowned_," Andrea stressed insistently. Her eyes flitted between the four of us, trying to force her to consider that something going against her beliefs was not only real, but also trying to kill people in her town. "That's all," she reestablished.

I held up my hands peacefully. If there was no convincing her, then it was better to leave and come up with a different plan. Trying to coerce her after she decided once and for all that enough was enough would probably end with her throwing us out and telling her father. Seeing as her father was the sheriff, he would probably either kick us out of town on our asses or run background checks. Serenity and I would check out, but the boys wouldn't. "If that is what you really, honestly believe? Then we will leave, right now. Out the door." I gestured behind me to the staircase, letting her know that if she wanted it, she had an out.

"But if you think there's even a _possibility _that something else could be going on here…" Dean stressed it but gave her a moment for it to sink in, for her to process what he was saying. He glanced inside the child's room to Lucas meaningfully. "Please let me talk to your son."

Andrea swallowed, looking in on her son again apprehensively. There was a moment when we all waited for her to react. It seemed like reason was battling against intuition in her head. Surely she had noticed how after an extremely low casualty rate, the morgue was suddenly filling up?

Finally, she nodded slightly, lifting one hand up to rub at her cheek worriedly. She stepped aside, leaving the doorway to her son unguarded.

Serenity and I shared a relieved look before my sister nodded slightly to the doorway. I raised my eyebrows at Dean as I walked past him and into the room and he gave me a very slight nod. I felt the soft carpet under my feet as a sharp contrast to the wooden floor outside. The room was quiet, sunlight filtering in and lighting up the bedroom with a soft, welcoming glow.

I bent over to look at Lucas's drawings. There were a couple more drawings since the last time I'd looked at his works; the same red bicycle he'd drawn at the park had been repeated two or three times since. I lowered myself to kneel in front of him. "Hey, Lucas," I said with a friendly smile.

"Do you remember me?" Dean asked, setting a hand on the floor to balance as he crossed his legs across from the child.

I reached into the inside pocket of my jacket, lightly closing my fingers around the edge of the folded paper before pulling it out. "You know, I wanted to thank you again for your drawing." I paused for a moment while I unfolded the picture and set it down on the carpet for Lucas to see. "But something bad happened again, and I need your help."

It was generally a good idea to say 'I' in this sort of situation - he trusts me, fine, but trust is earned, and since he hadn't interacted with Serenity or Sam yet, it was better to play that they weren't as closely involved as they actually were.

"How did you know to draw this?" I tried quietly, motioning with one hand to the picture of the Carlton house. "Did you know that something bad was going to happen there?"

I craned my neck to see what Lucas was working on. Lines of blue and black and grey looked like his interpretation of the water, and a small stick figure was in the middle of the lake.

_A person underwater? This kid needs therapy._

It's not his fault, but seriously. Therapy.

"Maybe you could nod, yes or no, for us," Dean suggested, pulling with one hand at the carpet, fidgeting slightly before he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and his hands under his chin. "You're scared," he recognized softly, understandingly. This compassion that he showed Lucas about blew me out of the water - no pun intended. "It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom. I was scared, too," he admitted.

I just barely looked up to see Sam, standing by the doorway with Andrea and Serenity. His face was shocked and sad, watching his brother acutely with sympathy and concern.

"I didn't feel like talking, just like you," Dean continuing, relating to Lucas as best as he could. "But see, my mom - I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day, and I do my best to be brave." I smiled softly at his words but didn't let him see. It was sweet, the way he connected so well with Lucas, and instead of trying to rationalize with him, he was treating him like a child, trying to both shield him and offer up the loose legitimacy of character that children needed to trust. "And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave, too." If it weren't to a child, it would have been a low blow.

Lucas dropped his blue crayon suddenly and the sound of the soft thump on the paper, followed immediately by the paper's wrinkle, was slightly startling. He leaned away from his pictures, still not meeting anyone's eyes.

I watched attentively while he pushed through the pictures that he'd already drawn and I noticed yet another drawing of the red bike. _How is that significant? _The bike was drawn even more often than the water. I made sure to keep that in mind.

Lucas pulled out one of the more detailed pictures, sliding it across the soft, light carpet towards me. This one was of a building in the background, white, with a circular window with grey lines for the window panes. Judging by the style, it was probably stained glass in real life, and the way it was drawn made me think it was a church. A yellow house was next to it, made in squares and rectangles and triangles. In front of a wooden fence drawn under both buildings was the same red bike, except the stick figure next to it had a dark blue baseball cap drawn over the top of his head.

Lucas still didn't make eye contact or look anywhere above my shoulders, but I knew that he was listening and aware. "Thanks, Lucas," I said with as reassuring a voice as I could. "Look, I promise that you won't have anything to be scared of for much longer. We'll find what's doing this, okay?"

In response, I got a miniscule nod of his head.

I counted that as a big victory.

* * *

><p>I sucked on the inside of my cheek in thought, staring at the drawing while riding in the passenger's side of the Impala. I looked up from the crayon colors to see the grass whizzing by as Dean drove over the speed limit.<p>

"Something I don't get," I started, having been wondering the same question for five minutes and still having no logical answer. "Is if Lucas doesn't talk, and rarely does anything but draw, how can he tell where the water is going to strike? And how does he know what it's about?"

When I looked up into the rearview mirror, I saw Serenity look to Sam in question, her interest piqued, while the younger Winchester leaned forward in the backseat. "There are cases," he started to explain. "Going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to… premonitions, and psychic tendencies."

"Quick, Serenity, tell me what I'm thinking," I yelled excitedly, wondering if maybe our twin thing of having nonverbal communication was more "traumatic experience equals psychic" rather than just knowing each other so well.

"You're thinking about _Psych,_" Serenity deadpanned with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh my God, it really is true!" I was mostly sarcastic, of course, because I hadn't actually been thinking of _Psych _until she mentioned it. But it made sense that she would think I was thinking it, knowing that _Psych _is one of my favorite television shows. No dice on the twin psychic level thing, then.

Sam chuckled in the backseat in response to the exchange.

"Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow?" Dean suggested. In back, Serenity scoffed, looking away and out the window. Dean glared at her through the rearview mirror. "I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you've got a better lead, please, tell!"

Serenity leaned forward and reached over my shoulder to tap the drawing in my hands. "Last time Lucas drew a house, someone that lived there bit the dust. I say we find this house and check the place out."

"The only problem is that there's about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone," Dean pointed out in irritation.

Sam leaned forward so he was looking over my shoulder and he turned his head to Dean, dryly amused. "What about the church in the drawing?" He followed it up immediately with a smug, "I bet there's less than a thousand of those around here."

Dean shook his head, looking back out the windshield but taking a teasing shot at his brother. "Oh, college boy thinks he's so _smart_," he mocked, rolling his eyes and grinning sideways at me.

* * *

><p>I looked up to the church through the windshield of the Impala, holding the paper up to the light. "Yeah, this is it," I nodded. I was right; the window with the interesting panes was stained glass in real life. The main building was painted white with a black roof, and the bell tower attached to it was three stories high and cast a shadow over the yellow house depicted in Lucas's drawing with the boy with the baseball hat.<p>

The yellow painted house had a wooden fence guarding it from the outside world. I reached to my side to undo the seat belt and let the strap slide across my chest, pulling back into the retractor. Hopefully, whoever had been important to the case still resided there now and could give us some answers.

We all stepped out of the car, and Dean locked it after all of the doors were closed. He pulled up his jacket and flipped the collar down around his neck. Serenity and I met each other's eyes and then made a general gesture towards the older boy, doing the typical "I have a leather jacket and I'm cool" routine.

The front gate was ajar to visitors, so I assumed that we wouldn't be escorted off of the property. As we walked up the driveway, myself in front, I looked around subtly for a glimpse of a little boy or a red bicycle. If Lucas was tapping into some sort of psychic reserve, then didn't that mean that both had some sort of relevance? The lawn offered no clue, other than the smooth grass trim and the fact that there had been no bike crushing the plants anytime lately.

I knocked and held out my badge for whenever the door decided to open. A woman pulled it open, in her senior years, with greying hair and a grandmotherly air about her, in a cooking apron splattered in flour. From the moment the door opened, I could smell the sweet scent of cookies baking in the oven.

I offered her a polite smile. "We are sorry to bother you, ma'am, but we'd like to ask you a couple questions. We're Agent Kasakabe, my sister Serenity, and Federal Wildlife agents Ford and Hamill."

I looked over her shoulder into the living room. The fireplace was closed off, the yellow curtains open to let in the sunlight. The furniture faced away from the door aside from the decorations on the mantel. There were several photographs. It hit me quite suddenly that the little boy in many of them was the image of the boy Lucas had depicted outside of the house.

I realized I was pretty much ignoring her now so I looked back and gave the old woman another smile. "Does a little boy live here, by any chance?" I knew it would be odd for feds to be looking for a child, but I could always come up with a lie. "He might wear a blue baseball cap and own a little red bicycle."

Her eyes widened comically while I spoke and I was starting to worry that I may have induced a heart attack. She lifted her hands up to her face and slowly shook her head, looking pained and upset. "No, miss. Not for a very long time."

_Dead? Missing?_

Well, this became a little awkward. I reached up to rub the back of my neck, a nervous habit. "Er… could you tell me who he is, please?" I heard Serenity cough pointedly into her arm, very nicely expressing her opinions on my tact.

"Peter," she answered, still looking grief-stricken and pale. I bit my lip in concern. "My Peter's been gone for thirty-five years now. He had my last name, Sweeney, not his father's." She sighed. _My…? Her son. _And here comes the general issue of feeling like a bitch for reminding her of this. Aren't I just a fantastic person? "The police never-" she cut herself off and swallowed. "I never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared."

I felt someone's shoe subtly connect with the back on my heel. Serenity pointed with her hand held low and out of view of Mrs. Sweeney to the kitchen table, where an array of green plastic toy soldiers were collecting dust like a shrine. They looked the same as the toys Lucas had.

"Losing him… you know, it's…" Peter's mother took a deep, shuddering breath. "It's worse than dying."

Something about that sentence made alarm bells begin to toll in my head, like we'd just found something important, and I quickly repeated her exact words in my mind so I'd remember them later.

"Did he disappear from here?" Dean asked, speaking over my shoulder. "I mean, from this house?"

Mrs. Sweeney shook her head in denial. "He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school…" she took a deep breath. "And he never showed up."

I looked past her and to the photographs on the mantel again, my eyes finding one of Peter Sweeney, complete with bike and hat, standing in front of a dock by the lake next to another boy his age. He seemed familiar somehow… I blinked. _Bill Carlton._ When he was a kid, Bill and Peter had been friends - at least, until Peter had gone missing, presumably dead.

Presumably drowned.

I offered heartfelt condolences and allowed Mrs. Sweeney to close the door on us, nodding in gratitude for her time, before abruptly turning around on the porch. I held out one arm to get them to turn around and walk back to the Impala with me, my mind buzzing. So, if Peter Sweeney drowned thirty years ago, but someone was responsible, then that would definitely piss him off, unless he was a freaking Saint that didn't mind getting murdered, however indirectly.

Were we dealing with a vengeful spirit, like the woman in white had been? Being tethered to the place where he died would depress anyone, but it would also explain how the water from the lake had been controlled into the Carlton house.

But Peter had died before William or Sophie were even born. Were they accidental victims, collateral damage, or was Peter trying to get back at Bill by killing off his children? And if that was the case, then what motive did Peter have to go after the others - Lucas's father? Sophie and Will practically grew up in the lake, as they said, so Peter could have snatched them a number of times before. Clearly, even the spirit had restraint. The kills were done by choice.

_At least he let Lucas survive. _Lucas had been alone in the water for _two hours _after he'd watched his father's murder. Lucas could have easily been drowned, as well.

"Okay." Serenity took a controlled breath, trying to keep herself put together. I'm not surprised that she, like me, occasionally has to take a moment to think, "right, yeah, this happened" and get her head around the supernatural knowledge. "So, this kid, Peter Sweeney, he goes bye-bye, and somehow it's connected to Bill Carlton nearly forty years later."

"Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something, huh?" Dean asked rhetorically, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"And Bill, the people he loves - they're all getting punished," Sam added, trying to reason it out the same way that I had.

"If the real target is Bill, then why go after innocent people?" The moment the question got past my lips I was able to answer it myself. "Of course. It had nothing to do with Christopher, or Sophie, or William. It was killing Bill mentally before preparing to do the same physically."

"So what if Bill did something to Peter to deserve it?" Serenity guessed. "And by "something," I mean, "drowned him in the lake and then covered it up and never told anybody." Because I don't know about you guys, but if Bill had done that to me, I'd be pretty annoyed."

"Peter's spirit would be furious," Dean replied, tilting his head slightly against the sunlight as the gate swung closed. "It'd want revenge. It's possible."

* * *

><p>I slammed the Impala door as I stepped out and looked around, reaching up to push hair out of my face as I turned to see his house. "Mr. Carlton!" I called, hoping that I wouldn't have to go inside again. The revving of an engine made me turn to face the noise, coming from through the trees and the short path to the lake. "It doesn't sound like a car…" I said uneasily.<p>

"It's a boat. Damn it!" Serenity cursed and took off running off of the trail and towards the tree line, disappearing in the underbrush. Sam, Dean, and I followed, jogging after her regardless of the foliage.

We came out on the shoreline not long later. _Thank God for shortcuts. _Why hadn't we just taken this route with Will Carlton the other day? At the end of the pier, a rope was tied around one of the posts but it was lax and dangling off the dock and into the lake, no longer attached to a boat.

A motorized fishing boat was departing, going through the water, with one man - Bill Carlton - on board. Jackets flew and feet thundered with force as the four of us ran to the end of the dock. My first instinct was to strip myself of my shoes and extra layers before diving in, but as I looked into the water which was almost _too _dark, I decided that that probably wasn't the best idea that I've ever had.

"Hey!" Serenity shouted as loudly as she could, raising her hands to cup around her mouth to carry her voice. "Turn the boat and come back here!"

"Come back to the dock!" I agreed, screaming as loud as I could. I felt the draft of the breeze over the water in my face. It was refreshing. "Get away from and out of the water!"

"Turn the boat around!"

"Mr. Carlton!"

Sam and Dean's voices joined ours as we screamed, but Bill didn't acknowledge us, let alone obey. He sent us a single, almost sorrowful glance once he was towards the middle of the lake, allowing the boat to slow down only slightly.

The moment he looked away, a giant disturbance in the water came out of nowhere, a wave growing from nothing at least ten feet tall and right under his boat. The water sprayed and splashed into the boat as it was tossed up into the air with so much force, and Bill was knocked out as the rush of water arched over both himself and his transport. Given the suddenness of the event, I was struck dumb, watching in horrified awe as the boat fell upside down and Bill tumbled into the water. I held my breath until I saw his arms break the surface, wind milling to stay afloat, but at that moment the sudden tidal wave came crashing down on top of him.

He didn't come up after that.


	9. Dead in the Water: Dead in the Water

"Sheriff, we know what we saw," Serenity protested vehemently against the man's disbelief, glaring holes into the center of his back as we crossed into the police station. It was as empty as it had been before, the only occupants being Andrea and Lucas.

Lucas was perched on a chair, looking away from his mother while she held a plastic box of something in one hand and set the other on her son's shoulder. "Baby, what's wrong?" She asked Lucas. I pitied her for her weary tone and almost desperate expression.

Jake massaged his forehead with his fingers on one hand and with the other he waved down low at Lucas. Lucas didn't respond to him and although Jake probably should have expected this, it made him sigh again.

Andrea straightened up, reluctantly accepting that Lucas wouldn't react to her. Lucas was wound tight like a violin string pulled taut and he looked about ready to jump out of his skin if someone came up behind him. _What's he so afraid of? _I pondered silently to myself, tipping my head to the Barrs in greeting.

"Sam, Dean. Agent Kasakabe, Serenity." Andrea pushed several strands of dark hair out of her face and offered us a tired smile of hello. "I didn't expect to see you here again."

"Ah, well, it's a very homely place to be," Serenity lied with a polite, half-sarcastic grin.

"So now you're on a first-name basis," Jake noted dryly, his eyes flickering from Sam and Dean. He didn't seem impressed, amused, or pleased. "What are you doing here?" He asked his daughter quietly in an attempt to maintain a semblance of privacy, despite the five other humans in the open room with them.

"I brought you dinner," Andrea answered with a hopeful smile, holding out the container.

Jake made a noise of disappointment in his throat, and Andrea's face fell sadly. _She just wants her family to be functional again. _I sympathized with both of them. I've been on both ends of the spectrum; on one end, I'm too busy, and on the other hand, Serenity just didn't have time between paperwork and fieldwork in the mafia, and unlike me, she didn't exactly have a number of vacation days to take before she got up to the higher ranks.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He looked to Andrea wistfully and reached out empathetically to set his hand softly on her shoulder. "I don't really have the time."

Andrea's predictable change of topic was enough to tell me that she had heard this several times before and wanted to save herself the hurt of going through it again. "I heard about Bill Carlton." Her eyes went from her father to me. "Is it true? Is something going on with the lake?"

"We're not exactly sure what's going on here, yet," I lied, offering her a genuinely sorry smile. I promised her and Lucas I'd make it stop, and I will, but telling her that her daddy's friend murdered someone thirty some years ago and now it's striking revenge seems like a conversation best left for when her dad's not around - oh, yeah, and Hell has frozen over.

"I think it might be better if you and Lucas went on home." Jake tried to subtly hint for them to leave and Andrea caught the subtext, but Lucas only stiffened in his chair before jumping off and making a beeline for me, running past his family.

Lucas reached up and grabbed onto the wrist of my right arm with both of his hands, looking up and meeting my eyes for the first time. His eyes were a soft hazel color; pretty to look at, and easy to read, and right now he was terrified. He looked like someone had struck him and he whined like an injured or frightened dog, the keening sounding ridiculous coming from a human.

I took one look at his eyes and I dropped immediately down to my knees, rocking back to sit on my heels, and held out my other arm. I didn't know why Lucas was afraid, but he didn't want to go home and he thought I was a safe alternative. He rushed forward against me and while both arms still wrapped tightly around my right forearm, nearly cutting off the circulation, he pressed the rest of him into the hug. He shook like a lone leaf in wind.

I closed my other arm around him protectively, patting his back soothingly and dropping a maternal kiss into his dark blonde hair.

"Lucas?" Dean asked curiously.

"Lucas!" Andrea exclaimed her son's name with a tinge of embarrassment in her voice. I simply looked up for a minute and shook my head slightly, telling her that it was okay. I didn't mind.

It didn't take long for most of his shaking to subside but I was still wary of letting him leave. If he was tuning into the psychic F.M. channel or whatever, then maybe he was scared because he thought he or someone close to him was about to be hurt.

"It's okay," I murmured, rubbing large circles into the little boy's back. "You're alright, Lucas. You're safe with your mom. We won't let this thing continue," I added on a quieter note, dropping my voice so that only Lucas heard.

My response was the nod of his head against my shoulder. Despite the evidently overwhelming rush of adrenaline, Lucas was still mute.

Andrea did, however, see the nod of understanding and she gently touched Lucas's shoulders, beginning to steer him away from the SSA that had taken an unusual interest in her son. I doubt she saw me as a threat, but it must be a little unnerving to have a relative stranger comfort your child for you.

I locked eyes with Lucas as he let his mother lead him by his shoulders, watching me still with those big, pleading eyes, and didn't look away from him until Andrea's legs blocked our stares.

I brushed myself off and clambered up to my feet again as the door closed behind the duo. Serenity, Dean, and Sam were all watching me with mixes of amusement and concern on their faces, and I cleared my throat very pointedly. "Anyway, sheriff, I highly advise you to set up a perimeter around the lake."

The sheriff shook his head in response and walked past the reception and through the open door frame into his office, shrugging out of his jacket as he moved. He grabbed the sleeve with one hand and pulled before doing the same with the other side, and then straightened it out, draping it over the back of his chair. I followed him inside, emphatic and firm on the suggestion, and the other hunters followed me to stay in the loop.

"Okay, just so I'm clear, you see…" Jake blinked and shook his head again like he was trying to wrap his head around the statements. "You see _something _attack Bill's boat, sending Bill -" he paused and gave me a long look with a fisheye and it was difficult to not react. _Fuck. He's suspicious._ "Who is a very good swimmer, I might add - into the drink, and you never see him again?"

I was very careful to school my expression to neutrality - trying to be earnest and concerned wasn't getting me anywhere. _Why's he suspicious of me, of all people? He must have run the background checks. He must know Sam and Dean aren't who they say they are. He must think I know it._ Well, although I might feel like a bitch, I'll deny I know anything to try to keep other people away from the lake.

I nodded once, completely poker faced. "Yep. That's pretty much it."

Jake scoffed and he leaned over his desk, palms pressed against the surface to support him, and he leaned too close to me for comfort. I was glad I was standing instead of sitting - it made me taller than him when he leaned. "And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake? And what you're describing is impossible?" He sneered. "And your buddies aren't really Wildlife Service?"

I put on the best act that I could and I frowned in confusion. "What the hell are you smoking?"

He scoffed rudely. "That's right, I checked. The department's never heard of a Hamill or Ford."

I made my frown melt into a scowl and leaned forward so that we were basically pushing at each other's bubbles in a dominance contest to see who would give first. I glared. "And you think I would voluntarily assist fraudulence or identity theft? Please do yourself a favor and think about who you're accusing. They told me they were Wildlife Service and provided identification. Am I supposed to be a psychic?"

His eyes softened slightly like he was realizing that he was really barking up the wrong tree here. "Enough, please." His eyes snapped over to Dean and Sam and he leaned out of my space, consenting that I was right and he had no authority to try to bully me into submission.

I'm pretty sure that, despite my triumph, Sam would say that Jake was the bigger person in this case.

Dean listened to Jake start to talk in a low, threatening growl with his lips parted to defend himself. "The only reason you're breathing free air is one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did," Jake informed him sternly. "So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials, fraudulence to the FBI-" _Oh, so now you're fighting on my side? _"-and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton's disappearance."

Dean and Sam both exchanged a _we're busted _look and Serenity stepped back slightly against the wall to deflect any attention.

"Or," Jake offered slowly, tone still as disciplined and cold as it had been a moment prior. "We can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't _ever _darken _my _doorstep again."

I looked at Sam and Dean and made sure that Jake couldn't see my face before I mouthed the word _two_. Although I could easily bail them out, and they knew it, it would be easier to not have to go through the technicalities that came with it.

Sam offered Jake a sheepish look in response to my order and he swallowed before saying quietly, meekly, "Door number two sounds good."

"That's the one I'd pick," Jake stated tersely, in clear agreement.

_Keep it up._ I strode to the boys and put a hand on both of their shoulders, pushing them to turn around. "We'll be leaving you, Devins," I called over my shoulder tensely, my voice deliberately strained. The Winchesters allowed me to shepherd them through the reception and towards the doors while Serenity followed behind and I hissed in a stage voice so Jake could hear, _"If you make one wrong move, I swear to anything you hold valuable, you will be spending the night in a dark cell."_

* * *

><p>"Well, that just went <em>swimmingly<em>," I drawled sarcastically from the front passenger's seat of the Impala, slumped to the side uncomfortably so that my elbow could rest by the window and leaning my head against my hand.

"That was an awful pun," Serenity told me, rolling her eyes. It was kind of hard to see in the darkness, but I could always tell what she was doing when she was unimpressed with me.

Dean let the Impala coast to a stop at a stoplight in front of an intersection telling how to get to the interstate and how to go back to where we'd already spent a while driving from in uneasy silence.

"Are you going to be okay, Holly?" Sam asked in gentle concern from next to Serenity. "Will you be under suspicion?"

I shook my head. "I'd be more worried about you guys," I said firmly. I was touched by the worry for me, but I would be fine. "I'm technically on leave, anyway. If I'm questioned I'll fabricate something. I'm a good liar. You guys shouldn't use those identities again though."

"Yeah. Okay," Sam agreed simply, moving to lean back and force himself to loosen up.

The stoplight overhead switched to yellow and then to the green light, the universal symbol for go, but the Impala still didn't move. I chanced a look over to Dean. The oldest male of the group, he generally had the rights to drive his car, and I suspected he was used to taking the blame onto himself when things went wrong. When the two were combined, evidently he didn't pay much attention to the roads and signs.

"Green," I called softly to get his attention back to driving.

"What?" He looked up from where he'd been staring at the steering wheel, seemingly out of it.

"The light. It's green," I clarified, waving with one hand to the windshield.

Dean sighed and stepped on the gas, pushing the car into motion again, and turned the steering wheel to the right. There was a sort of uncertain quiet for the next thirty seconds while he made the turn.

"The interstate's the other way," Sam stated oddly, giving his brother a strange look.

Dean's response came in the form of another sigh. "I know."

Sam shifted. I heard the material of his coat rustling as he moved, leaning to the side so he could push himself forward between the two front seats. "But Dean, this job - I think it's _over._"

Dean didn't look at Sam while he disagreed. "I'm not so sure."

"Well…" Serenity cocked her head and looked out the window, evaluating everything that she knew. "Peter Sweeney was the spirit, right? If Bill murdered Peter and now Peter's gotten his revenge, then the case is closed. The spirit got what it wanted and leveled the guy that leveled him."

"Actually," I started reluctantly. I wanted to believe it was over, but I couldn't leave if more people were in danger, and Lucas had been really spooked - willing to directly acknowledge me to feel safe, when he'd barely looked at me before. The desperate keening had pulled at my heartstrings. "I'm not entirely sure that's the whole story. Peter was twelve when he drowned, right? Well, from that picture we saw in the Sweeney house, he was as tall as if not taller than Bill. Neither of them were particularly muscular."

"So they were weak kids." Serenity scoffed. "That's not our fault."

"It's harder to drown someone than you might think," I explained. "You have to keep them underwater for usually at _least _a minute, head and nose completely submerged so they can't get air. The oxygen starvation eventually renders them unconscious, but during that minute, the survival instincts take precedence over anything else. A twelve year old boy couldn't hold down one his size for that long while Peter had all that adrenaline and was fighting for his life."

Sam stared at me and I looked away, not wanting to look at the big doe eyes and feel bad for raining on his parade. "So - _wait _- you don't think Bill killed Peter?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm pretty damn sure Bill killed Peter." It only made sense. If he hadn't, then how would he have known who was in the water, and that it wanted to take his life, too? "But… I don't know, it seems like there should have been someone else involved, too." I sighed and looked over to Sam. "Look, I've been nearly drowned before by someone who was bigger than me and several years older. I was still fighting so hard that I was able to get some oxygen. I'm just saying, the odds of Bill pulling it off himself are slim."

"So what if we take off and this thing isn't done?" Dean finally said, sending Sam a short, meaningful look. "What if we've missed something and more people get hurt?"

"But why would you think that?" Sam breathed, watching Dean with the big sad eyes and trying to understand his brother's feelings.

Dean rolled his eyes to look away from Sam and shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "Because… Lucas was really scared," he mumbled.

Sam's eyes widened in shock. "_That's _what this is about?"

"I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay," Dean said insistently, shooting Sam a look that told him firmly not to make fun of him for it. Personally, I thought the drive to protect Lucas was not only sweet, but also good.

"Who are you?" Sam asked incredulously, staring at Dean in surprise. "What have you done with my brother?"

"Hey, don't knock it," I protested, knocking Sam's shoulder lightly with my hand, trying to get him to lean back. "Biological imperative, Sammy."

Dean gave his brother a dirty look. "Just shut up."

* * *

><p>I could hear the soft thump of our shoes landing on the concrete while we walked up to the front porch steps of Andrea's house. The little lantern hung on the side of the house made it easier for us to see and not fall. I heard crickets and the sound of running water underneath the sound that we made while we moved.<p>

"Are you sure about this?" Sam asked one last time, stopping Dean before his brother woke them up. "It's pretty late, man," he added as a precaution. Serenity and I shared a look. That was a weak excuse and we both knew Sam wanted Dean to leave it alone, truly convinced there wasn't a case anymore. Still, it was late - the hours of driving away and then driving back made it nearly two in the morning.

Dean just gave Sam one of those _don't try with me, man_ expressions and pressed his thumb on the doorbell. I heard the echo of the doorbell ringing inside.

The door pulled open the moment Dean pressed the button, swinging wide. Lucas stood just inside the foyer, his chest heaving for breath out of fear and desperation. Terrified eyes moved up to meet mine.

I surveyed the house, already stepping inside. Why was a mute child opening the door instead of his mother, an adult that could judge threats more accurately? I looked towards the stairs when I heard the sound of the running water growing louder and I stared at the stairs as water trickled down from the upstairs hallway, making the staircase into a series of waterfalls, the rivulets streaming down one after the other in quick succession and soaking into the rug at the bottom, darkening the material.

"Damn it. Andrea!" I shouted as loud as I could, reaching down out of an impulse and grasping Lucas around his waist, scooping up the child and holding him up to my chest. His arms went to my shoulders and I could feel him shuddering. His white socks were drenched in water, leaving watermarks on my jeans where his feet touched my thighs.

I rushed to the kitchen to the right of the staircase. "Go upstairs!" I yelled to my friends, however I doubted they needed it. Once I'd stepped aside, they would have seen the water coming down the stairs. Dean charged across the entry hall and stormed up the stairs, feet splashing on the wet carpeting.

I lifted Lucas up on top of the kitchen table and started to pull away. His hands fisted into my shirt and I reached up to stroke his hair comfortingly once, giving him another kiss to his forehead. "Stay here," I ordered him, pulling my arms away slowly. "Stay up high where the water can't reach you." I didn't want to leave him alone, but for all I knew, Andrea was caught in a flooded closet or something equally unrealistic and movie-like.

Lucas just nodded quickly, frantically, and I spun around to run to the stairs. I noted that the front door had been left wide open, but then decided that so long as Lucas didn't try to run away, it wouldn't pose a problem, so I went up the stairs, my hand slipping over the banister quickly.

Dean, Sam, and Serenity stood in front of a door closed firmly and Serenity hit her fists on it, screaming as loudly as she could. _"Andrea!"_

Underneath in the crack between the door and the transfer between tile and carpet, water poured out in a steady, constant stream. It was filthy, a sort of dark greenish black color like I'd seen in William Carlton's sink. Dean drew back. "Move!" He shouted. The moment Serenity was out of the way, he kicked up and slammed the heel of his boot into the wood and the door splintered, forcing open with a crash in response to the impact.

I shoved my way past Sam and inside, grimacing at what I saw inside. The bathroom was flooded. The sink underneath the mirror had both knobs turned off, but a thick stream of water poured from the faucet regardless, overflowing over the top of the sink and splashing to the floor and joining the water from the overflowing bathtub, which was also still running the unclean water. It spilled out over the curved edge of the bathtub and covered the tiled floor in water which was about an inch high, explaining the flood of water rushing out and down the stairs, too.

I reached the tub after sliding several times, slipping in the water even with my shoes on, and only hesitated for a second before plunging my arms into the bathtub. I grimaced as the dirty water soaked into not only my sleeves, but also the front of my shirt as it surged forwards and I leaned down. It felt like it was freezing all the way to my bones and making me a human Popsicle.

My fingers felt the smooth, soft skin before her hair and I moved down away from her throat and traced along to her shoulders before digging my fingers under Andrea and pulling up. I grimaced. "Serenity!"

I couldn't feel Andrea moving although I knew that I must have been grabbing her hard enough to leave bruises. _How long has she been under?_ The water was keeping her down with a startling force, like something was pinning her down that I couldn't feel.

I definitely felt when a very sharp force grabbed one of my wrists. It felt like a hand but the fingers were as sharp as talons when it pulled me under in response to trying to save its victim.

I opened my mouth to scream but the disgusting water swept into my mouth instead. My eyes burned from the filth and I squeezed my eyes shut quickly, writhing to try to get my head above water.

_"__Come… play… with… me…"_

The whispery voice was there but it was hard to focus on. I was too busy not drowning to contemplate what it was from, but it was male, and had the higher pitch of a child.

Larger hands looped around my chest under my arms and pulled backwards tightly and I gasped as whatever it was let me go, satisfied that I had learned my lesson, and the sudden lack of pull let me surface rapidly and I snapped back, falling against Sam with sudden force. The back of my head collided with his chest, my hair wet and stringy. I gasped, lungs stinging painfully. I hadn't been under too long, but I hadn't thought to breathe before being captured and so I hadn't had as much oxygen as I could have.

I reeled backwards and Sam staggered under the weight. Serenity stood on the other side of the bathtub, reaching in. "Careful!" I panted, tearing myself away from Sam and going to the other side. I looked across the sloshing water to my sister. "You get one arm, I'll get the other." Distributing the weight and not leaning as far in seemed like a better plan.

Serenity lifted Andrea's arm out of the water and reached down, pulling by her elbow while I took the other and leaned over to wrap it around my neck before pulling. Together the two of us wrested her out of the water, but when her head broke the surface she gasped and started flailing, her eyes red and bloodshot.

I winced as my neck was pulled but reached around and wrapped my other arm under hers, pulling as hard as I could, and she kicked out against the water to get free.

It must have either been too weak for the combined efforts of three people or it conceded defeat, because suddenly there was no force to pull _against_ and I ended up falling over, pulling her out of the bathtub and on top of me. I groaned softly, spread-eagled, soaked through, and lying on the flooded bathroom floor with the woman on top of me.

It was only then that I realized that since she'd been in the process of taking a bath before it went to hell, she was completely naked.

I sighed. "Dean, go get some towels," I ordered, relaxing briefly and allowing my muscles to loosen, feeling the ache in my spine relax slightly. I reached up with one arm to pat Andrea's back awkwardly as she shuddered over me, terrified half to death and drowned the other half. She coughed, spluttering water from her lungs.

Serenity stepped around the bathtub and I looked up at her. I half expected her to make a comment about the awkward position but instead she just raised her eyebrows and shook her head before looking at the floor and calling after Dean, "I think you might want to just bring all the towels you can find. This is a lot of water!"

* * *

><p>Serenity's jacket was hanging up in the bathroom on a hanger to dry, as well as Sam's, and Dean's shoes were out drying on the porch, but my clothes were too wet. I kept them on while the five of us got Lucas situated with some more paper and crayons and then cleaned up the flood. Serenity stomped towels into the carpets to absorb the water and Andrea got a plug to stopper the bathtub drain, where, according to her, much of the water had come from. Then we took all the remaining towels and while Andrea went, dressed, and dried off, Dean kept an eye on Lucas and Sam and I took towels and a large black trash bag to the bathroom and started soaking up all the water from the floor. After every towel was soaked through and through we shoved it in the trash bag to be thrown in the drier at a later date.<p>

It took over an hour to completely clean up, and then Andrea gave me some of her extra clothes to wear (gym shorts and a tee shirt) and threw my shirt and jeans in the drier for me, while I hung up my jacket over the porch banister and left my shoes to dry with Dean's. Her hospitality was much appreciated, but I would truly rather not do this next time I come by Lake Manitoc.

We spent about three hours getting things done and then we tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy for Andrea's sake. Serenity picked up the living room and I broke out anything _but _water to make breakfast, turning the stove on to three hundred degrees, beating some eggs into submission, and dumping some hash browns onto the grill. I got Lucas to come to the kitchen and mix the pancake batter while the griddle heated up to three-fifty so that Serenity could flip the pancakes while I finished up eggs and hash browns. I love flipping pancakes, but Serenity tends to have better timing than I do.

By daylight, my hair needed to be brushed, but it and the rest of me were dry, and the same went for Andrea, who sat at the table in baggy grey sweatpants and a matching comfortable long-sleeved sweatshirt. Dean was looking over books on a shelf in the living room and Sam sat next to her while Lucas sat patiently across from his mother with his crayons and a piece of paper.

A look showed that he was drawing Peter Sweeney's red bike again.

"Can you tell me?" Sam asked Andrea gently while Serenity flipped a pancake up in the air with the spatula and watched delightedly as it landed where it was supposed to, upside-down on the griddle.

I turned down the oven as she eggs finished up. "No," Andrea answered in a whisper, shaking her head. She looked scared and haunted and drew her arms tightly around herself defensively. "It doesn't make any sense." She blinked and just like that, an emotional dam broke and her shoulders shuddered. "I'm going crazy," she cried, hunching over and blinking tears from her eyes.

"No, you're not," Sam told her, reaching out and rubbing her shoulder comfortingly.

I turned off the grill with the hash browns and turned to lean against the kitchen counter, watching Andrea sympathetically. "I know it seems overwhelming," I told her delicately. "And we lied to you by omission about what we've been doing here. But I can tell you truthfully now that what's going on isn't natural. I can't promise it's over yet but I can promise that you're safe with us. But we need to know what you remember."

Andrea nodded slowly, swallowing and rubbing at her cheek with one hand. "I heard… I thought I heard…" she blinked quickly. "There was this… voice," she finished, for lack of a better word.

"What did it say?" Serenity asked curiously as she piled the pancakes all onto one plate.

"_Come play with me_," I interrupted, recalling the faint, whispery voice that had called to me and dragged me under when I interfered. I raised my eyes to Andrea. "That's what it said, right? It pulled me under and that's what I heard."

She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut again. "What's happening?" She sobbed, doing her best not to start to cry again.

Dean pulled out an old photo album from the shelf and rifled through it as he carried it back to the table before finding a picture that made his eyes widen. He set it on the table directly in front of Andrea. "Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?" He asked, the album open to two pages, one with a full-page photo and the other with two half sizes.

"What?" Andrea was taken aback but she accepted the change in topic, leaning over the pictures to see them better. "Um… no. I mean, except - that's my dad, right there." She tapped her index finger lightly on the face of one of the children in the first half-size, to the right of Peter Sweeney and Bill Carlton. "He must have been about twelve in these pictures."

_So he was friends with Peter and Bill. I was right, there was an accomplice._

I sighed and looked up to Dean regretfully. This wasn't a conversation I particularly wanted Andrea to overhear, but we couldn't leave her alone with Peter so dead-set on revenge. "Christopher's drowning - the connection wasn't to his godfather. It must have been to the sheriff."

"Bill _and _the sheriff," Sam corrected me when he leaned over and saw the three boys in the picture together. "They were both involved with Peter."

Andrea went on the defensive. "What about Chris?" She looked between us all in confusion. "My dad - what are you talking about?"

"Lucas-" I started, looking to where the boy had been sitting at the table. If his grandfather was involved then he was in danger, too, and I wanted to tell him to stay close. Now he stood a few feet away from his chair, stock still like a board was tied to his back. He stared out the window without blinking. "Lucas?"

"Lucas, what is it?" Dean asked, abandoning the photo album with Andrea and crossing the kitchen to the little boy. Lucas ignored Dean, instead turning to the right and walking to the door.

"Lucas?" Andrea questioned when Lucas pulled open the front door. She stood up quickly. "Honey?" She called as her son walked out. I shared a look with Serenity and we both glanced longingly at the food on the counter but she put the plate of pancakes down on the table and came to join the party on the porch. I slid on an extra pair of sandals by the door.

Lucas walked down the steps and off of the trail leading by the house, going out closer to the lake. I could tell Andrea didn't like the way he was going because she kept only a couple of feet behind him, and Dean stayed with her. Sam, Serenity and I kept watchful eyes on the lake to make sure nothing came out of nowhere. The little boy stopped up a slight slope only ten yards or so from the dip where a grassy pad of Earth grew muddy and was then covered by the water.

Lucas looked at the ground for a long moment under his feet before looking back up to me, his eyes searching hopefully like he was trying to convey a hint.

"Do you guys have shovels in the car?" I asked, holding out my arms and beckoning for Lucas to come back over. The little boy glanced at the ground again before walking back to me and squeezing my legs in a hug. I set my hand on his hair protectively before letting him move back to his mother's side.

Dean turned to Andrea very seriously. "You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there," he commanded. "Okay?"

"Eat some breakfast," I advised. "It's the most important meal of the day." Serenity groaned and took a swing at me, hitting me upside the head with an open fist. "Ow! You-" I started to swear but then remembered the child among us and I glared at my sister. "You Dalek!"

Serenity smirked. "I'm the Emperor."

* * *

><p>"How's it going on your side?" I heard Serenity ask, huffing slightly as she held a shovel in her hands, digging away at the ground with the boys. Her tone was full to the brim with sass, mostly because all I was doing was watching the lake and making sure that there was no freaking tsunami heading our way or anything.<p>

"I dunno, man," I replied casually, pretending to sound tired. "It's pretty rough over here." As if to emphasize, I lifted my hand from my lap where I was sitting with my legs crossed on the ground and wiped my forehead. In response, a shovel full of dirt was sent my way and the dirt from the ground decorated my legs. "Hey!" I complained. "These aren't even my clothes!" I pushed myself up to my feet and brushed off the shirt.

"You should have thought of that before you started being a smartass!"

The loud chink of a shovel hitting metal made the three of them stop and pause. A moment later I heard the _thunks_ of three shovels hitting the ground, and I turned my head to look at them. Sam crouched down on his toes, using his hands to scoop away the loosened dirt, and Dean just pushed it away from his hands, going down deeper and trying to find what they'd found.

Serenity reached down when she saw something and grabbed it, her back arching as she fought to keep herself upright and drag the red metal with her. As she came up with it, Sam grabbed the other handle and helped her pull the bike out of the earth, soil falling around their feet. It was Peter Sweeney's bike, the one that Lucas had kept drawing almost compulsively.

"Why the bike?" I blurted out before I could think, then quickly added, "Lucas kept drawing it. Is it like the house was for the woman in white?"

"If something is an integral part of a person, then it has the capability to tether a spirit that feels like they have unfinished business," Dean answered, kicking lightly at the wire around the rim of the bike wheel and dislodging a few flakes of peeling, rusting red paint along with several clumps and a small shower of dirt.

"I guess he had a really strong attachment to his bike," Serenity quipped with a grimace, straightening the two-wheeler out on the ground. It was caked with dirt and it looked like the chains on the gears were rusted and snapped, the ends dangling towards the ground uselessly. "This thing has seen better days."

"Who are you?" The rough demand was punctuated at the end with a metallic clicking sound that I'd recognize anywhere - the sound of a gun's safety lock being turned off. I turned away from the lake and saw Jake the sheriff emerging from the underbrush, pistol pointing at Sam, Dean, and Serenity as they balanced the bike on its wheels.

I reached up with my hands slowly, before slowly moving to grasp the handle of the gun tucked in the elastic waistband of the shorts I wore. I set my finger on the trigger very carefully, slipping the barrel from my pants and raising it slowly until Jake noticed and trained the weapon on me. I stopped, the gun held in one hand and pointing to the ground.

"Put it down, Jake," I called softly, in the delicate, understanding tone that I used when talking down killers.

"How did you know that was there?" He demanded, re-aiming and jerking the barrel of the gun back to the other three. He sounded terrified, voice shaking and body quaking. I took the time to swing mine up to aim at him and clicked off the safety. If I had to, I would shoot him with very little guilt on my conscience. I always protect my friends.

"What happened, Jake?" I asked, still using the borderline condescending tone of voice. "You and Bill killed Peter, didn't you? You drowned him in the lake, and then you buried the bike." I noted the fear and grief tainting his otherwise dangerous stance. "It was an accident, wasn't it? You could have stripped the bike, thrown it into the lake, but instead you buried it, a sign of honor."

"You can't bury the truth, Jake," Dean challenged, eyeing the barrel of the gun Jake held. Sam was clearly more anxious; his eyes flicked from Jake to me, wondering if we would have to start shooting. I was certain that I could take down Jake, but it was too dangerous to provoke him into shooting when he was so close to his targets. "Nothing stays buried."

"Dean, shut up," I said evenly. "Let me handle this before you get yourself shot. If you haunt my ass, I swear I will exorcise you or whatever." It seemed like a legitimate threat when I made it until I remembered from the movies I'd seen that generally, demons were exorcised and spirits were "put to rest," whatever the hell that means.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Jake spat in denial as the front door of Andrea's house pushed open and the girl in question stepped quickly down her porch and onto the trail. _As if this could get any worse…_

"When you were twelve, you and Bill Carlton drowned Peter Sweeney in the lake. Thirty-five years ago." I stated it firmly so that he couldn't deny it; so that he _knew _it was a fact, that he knew he couldn't run away from it any longer.

"Dad!" Andrea cried, hearing the last of the conversation.

"And now you have one seriously ticked off ghost haunting the lake," I added, glancing over at Sam for confirmation. He gave me a slight nod of agreement and I looked back to Jake. "It took Sophie, William, and Bill Carlton. It took your son-in-law. It tried to kill your daughter and you're damn lucky we came back last night. It's not going to stop trying. It's going to drown Andrea and Lucas." Andrea gasped and raised her hands to her mouth, looking to her dad in horror.

I think the worst thing is that she believed me to the point where she didn't even ask me to stop aiming a firearm at her father.

_Losing him… you know, it's… it's worse than dying._

"It's going to drown them and drag their bodies - hell, I don't know where, but you won't find them, and you'll feel the same pain that Peter's mother felt." The motive was clear when I remembered what Mrs. Sweeney had said, because even a dead person's ghost would be able to tell that people who hadn't been born when he died couldn't have killed him or played a role in it. "After that, it's going to kill you, too. And you can't run from it. It can get through the pipes. It can travel the county, the state, and if it really wanted I'm pretty sure it could find a way to get across the country, too. It will always haunt you and you'll never be free from it." The shaking was violent and I was personally quite surprised how level my voice had managed to stay. "So before you start shooting, why don't you recognize that we're here to help save the lives of your family, since they're in danger because of your fuck-up?" Okay, so maybe I'm not quite as even-tempered as I had thought.

"That's exactly what it did to Bill Carlton," Sam tried to rationalize with Jake, and I had to give him credit - it was better than antagonizing him as Dean had nearly ended up doing.

"Listen to yourselves!" Jake shouted, keeping the gun trained on Dean. "You're insane, all of you!"

"Yet I can still shoot you now," I deadpanned. "Jake, we're not going to hurt you if you don't hurt us."

"That, and we don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us," Dean snarled, going back to aggravating the aggressor. _Does this guy have a death wish, or is he just really that stupid? _I thought to myself irately, biting down on the inside of my cheek to keep from telling him to shut up again. "But if we're going to bring down this spirit," Dean continued brusquely, "We need to find the remains," _okay_, "Salt them," _Um… If you really want to, I suppose we can do that… _"And burn them into dust," Dean finished.

I was nodding in agreement just so Jake would respect Dean, too, but that made me stop, blink, and do a double-take. "Wait, what?!" I coughed as soon as I realized what I'd done and I looked away from Dean, still wondering what the hell I'd gotten into. "I mean, yeah, that's… what has to get done. It's standard."

_I'm going to hell for using my authority this way, _I figured mentally. It didn't bother me too much - as an Atheist, I don't have to worry about an afterlife in Heaven or Hell. I use the term "hell" extremely loosely, generally as a curse or a joke, but I've never meant is as in Hell, the place with the big black dogs and fire and brimstone.

"Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere." Dean's voice was cold and callous, betraying his emotions on the subject. But really, I agree. I mean, if you're going to kill someone for no freakin' reason, at least have the decency to bury them. "Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake."

"Dad," Andrea breathed, looking to Jake desperately. "Is any of this true?"

Something flickered in Jake's eyes, but he remained resolute. "No," he lied through his teeth. "Don't listen to them. They're liars, and they're dangerous."

Serenity scoffed, heedless of the gun in her general direction. She probably knew as well as I did that if Jake were likely to shoot, then he probably would have already. As long as we didn't try to attack, I think we'll be okay, but I wasn't willing to bring down my weapon and leave us defenseless. "Yes," she told Andrea, voice dripping in lethal amounts of sarcasm. "The Kasakabe sisters found a couple of lunatics from A-Kon and now we're playing a very elaborate murder game because we have _nothing else better to do with our lives._"

Andrea looked back to Jake. I had to say, Serenity had a way of driving points through peoples' skulls. "Something tried to _drown _me," she told him. Another flash in Jake's eyes made me incline my chin slightly in acknowledgment of his anxiety. "Chris _died _on that lake. Dad, look at me!"

Jake looked up slowly to his daughter, who stood defensively with her arms crossed over her chest for both warmth and protection.

"Tell me you - you didn't _kill _anyone," Andrea pleaded, eyes anguished and sad.

He couldn't look at her and lie to her face, so he did the only thing he _could _do - he looked away in shame.

"Oh my God," Andrea gasped, her breath hitching.

Jake lowered his eyes away to the ground and away from his daughter. "Billy and I… were at the lake." _Oh, joy._ When non-psycho- or sociopaths get found out, they tend to go into monologues about why they did what they did. Sometimes it's really petty and irritating and a waste of time, but other times it actually reveals information that helps with the prosecution, which is why I have to stand and listen through them. "Peter was the smallest one… we always bullied him, but this time, it got rough."

"I kinda got that from the part where he ended up dead," Serenity grumbled with a contemptuous roll of her eyes.

"We were holding his head under the water. We didn't mean to." Jake lifted his eyes to Andrea imploringly. "But we held him under too long, and he… drowned." He took a deep breath, a sigh, and looked to Dean guiltily. "We let the body go, and it sank."

I let go of a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. _Well, there goes salting and burning a body… Never thought I'd think that seriously. _"Jake. The gun. Now," I called softly, and watched in a bit of relief as Jake lowered his weapon away from my friends, and in turn I turned the safety back on on mine.

"Oh, Andrea," Jake sighed. "We were kids. We were so scared… it was a _mistake._ But Andrea… to say that I have anything to do with these drownings? With Chris? Because of some ghost?" He shook his head slowly. "It's not _rational_!"

"And drowning a kid for being smaller is?" Serenity countered. "Listen, we can argue ethics later, but right now we need to get you, Andrea, and Lucas all as far from the lake as possible."

Andrea looked away from Jake to squeeze her eyes shut and grieve over the turn of events, but she stopped. "Lucas!" She screamed.

I whirled around, lowering my gun, and looked to the pier stretching several yards out into the lake. The little blonde boy was knelt at the furthest edge, stretching out his arm to reach for a little green soldier toy.

"Lucas!" Jake shouted, dropping his gun onto the ground in his shock. The landing was cushioned by pine needles.

_"__Come… play… with… me…_"

I heard the faint call and took off in a dead sprint down the slope back towards the trail. "Get away from the water!" I shouted, already hearing the beckons and whispers for another soul to join Peter in his watery grave. Chills rushed up my arms despite the speed with which I was running.

"Lucas!" Dean yelled, following right on my heels. Behind us, Serenity, Sam, and Jake sprinted while Andrea tried to run, but kept stumbling due to the terrain. She wasn't as used to running around holes in the ground or rocks and branches getting in the way.

"Lucas! Baby, stay where you are!" Andrea cried, contradicting me but probably not realizing it. Lucas remained knelt over the splashing little waves like he didn't hear.

A particularly large splash against the dock cleared away to show a pale blue arm reaching up and the fingers curled around Lucas's wrist before giving a mighty pull. Lucas was tugged into the water with flailing legs kicking weakly but he didn't make a sound. He looked like a rag doll getting pulled under.

I dropped the gun from my hand, ripped the little bag with my electronics off my belt loop, and threw them on the ground at the beginning of the pier as I ran. Jumping off the edge of the pier as I reached it, I threw my hands out in front of me and dove in.

The water rushed around me and I couldn't decide whether it was relaxing or shocking. The temperature was far too cold and jarring, and immediately soaked me through, drenching the shorts and shirt that Andrea had granted me, and I felt the pull of gravity trying to tug me and my waterlogged clothes down. I went with it, forcing myself to open my eyes to look. The lake water burned my eyes and I fought the desperate urge to close them, but kept looking around. It didn't do much good. I could only see murky shadows at best, and only within a couple feet of my face. I could barely see my hands with my arms stretched out.

Someone else jumped in to my right and so I let them handle that part of the water, reaching out to my left, kicking and batting at the water. I didn't feel anything except for the liquid slipping around my hands.

I stayed down, kicking with my legs to stay underwater and go deeper, even when my lungs started to burn. I looked around, searching for the mop of blonde hair or the greyish sweater Lucas had on. Hell, even the blue arm would be welcome, because if I could get that then I'd know Lucas was nearby.

My lungs protested the lack of oxygen and I winced, grimacing at the sting, fighting to keep myself down.

_Go up for air, sweet._

My head jerked up as soon as I thought I heard the words, even though it didn't really help and I still couldn't see. The voice didn't sound like Peter Sweeney's spirit's; this one was easy to hear but it was quiet at the same time, which was odd, given that I was completely immersed in water. It sounded concerned and soft, not malevolent or eerie. It was hard to tell whether it was masculine or feminine; the tone and volume were too soft to determine for sure.

_You need to breathe._

Well, if I was so starved of oxygen that I was hallucinating voices, then I probably needed to go up to the surface.

I growled low in my throat in discontent but changed direction to where I was pretty sure the top of the lake was, kicking my legs while keeping them straight, and swept upwards. The buoyancy of the human body helped a bit, but I'd gotten under pretty deep – at least five yards - and when I burst up into the air I gasped, throwing my head back and taking in the air. "Thank God," I gasped, throat stinging.

_Not quite_, I thought I heard. I shook my head slightly, my hair dripping water down my neck and into my face, taking several more breaths to drive away the haze of unconsciousness and the hallucinations with it.

Andrea stood on the dock and Serenity had grabbed Andrea's hands and held them behind her back to keep the woman from jumping in after her son. "If you get in you'll die!" She shouted as Andrea tried to fight it. "It wants you, too, remember?!"

Jake waded into the water from the shoreline and the steep lake had it up to his thighs within a couple of steps. He didn't seem to care that his beige uniform, radio, gun, and any electronics he might have had were going to be ruined. "Peter, if you can hear me…" he sounded crushed, his shoulders slumped in defeat, a far cry from the sheriff Jake Devins of two days ago. "Please, Peter, I'm sorry. I'm so… I'm so sorry." The water lapped up at his stomach.

"Daddy, _no_!" Andrea wailed. I honestly felt bad for her and did not envy the nightmares she'd later have. She was a nice woman and had nothing to do with any of this supernatural horror, but because of her father's mistakes, she lost her husband and now, possibly, her father and son, as well. Serenity grunted as Andrea accidentally kicked her legs trying to free herself, but my sister didn't let go.

"Peter - Lucas, he's just a little boy," Jake pleaded.

"Get back to the shoreline!" I shouted, immediately thereafter spitting out lake water that had managed to either splash up into my face or drip from my hair. Dean broke the surface of the water a moment later, followed seconds after by Sam. Sam's longer hair was matted and streaming and he lifted his hands to rub water out of his eyes.

"Jake, no!" Dean yelled when he saw what was going on.

"Please, it's not his fault, it's mine," Jake continued insistently, tears glistening off of his cheeks, stepping further in. His steps were larger now, the current helping to carry him. The sloshing cold water hit his throat when it came at him in a wave. "Please take me!" He had to lower his arms to paddle further out into the lake. "Just let it be over!"

"Get back!" I yelled again, more insistently before spluttering, choking, and spitting out more water. Jake's head disappeared below the water abruptly, though he had been at throat-level. I waited a moment - hopefully he just went under to swim, right? But his arms broke the water's surface and flailed wildly, splashing everywhere before his hands disappeared underneath again.

I growled and dove underwater again, but I could still hear Andrea's heart-wrenching screams.

I waited until my lungs burned again and resurfaced, heart pounding anxiously. At this rate we'd never get Lucas, assuming Peter hadn't killed him before he'd had a chance to drown normally. Lucas was still growing; even I would be unconscious by now if I had been underwater this whole time, but if Lucas was to be saved then he would need to be resuscitated within moments.

I screamed angrily, kicking my feet to stay upright and hitting my fists against the surface to the water. Water splashed up into my eyes and I blinked it away, screaming at the top of my lungs. "_Come on! You've got what you wanted! Your killers are dead!" _I stopped hitting the water long enough to push myself further out from the dock, leaning backwards and pushing against the water.

When I was younger and earlier on in my career, there had been a murderer who had drowned his victims. Unfortunately, I fit the criteria for his victimology, and I unwittingly found myself as a target. He'd managed to hold me underwater until I passed out, but the people I was working with had gotten me to safety before I could die. Since then, I had developed a love-hate relationship with large bodies of water. I was scared if I didn't know what was in them or if I was with people I didn't trust, but I took swimming lessons and now can support myself in water easily, and I love feeling surrounded and immersed.

This, however, while was a great use of my skill, was not something that I enjoyed.

_"__Let the boy go!" _I shouted. It had heard Jake, it would hear me. _"He hasn't done anything to you! By killing him you're no better than Bill and Jake!"_

I couldn't think of anything else left that I could say and I took a deep breath, pushing myself down into the water again, careful not to try to breathe or blink. I must have gone down several feet before something soft brushed against my arm. I reached out nearly blindly and grabbed before realizing that it was Lucas's soaked sweatshirt. I wrapped my arm around his midsection and kicked, pushing up to the surface. Lucas wasn't moving.

I broke the surface of the water with the child pinned tightly against me, his back to my front. I kicked almost frantically with my legs, but my limbs were sore, cold, and going numb. Getting to the dock was a struggle, but I tipped Lucas's head back against my shoulder and felt for a pulse. It was soft and slightly staggered, but it was _there._

"Serenity!" I panted as Andrea fell to her knees at the edge of the dock. I grabbed an edge of the pier to hold myself and Lucas's added weight above the water while Serenity reached down and slid her hands under Lucas's arms, lifting him up and onto the dock. Streams of water turned the light wood into a dark brown, almost black color.

"Lucas!" Andrea cried, bending over her son as Serenity got him mostly onto the dock, his legs bent at the knee and his ankles dangling in the lake.

"He's alive," I assured her, feeling an odd but content satisfaction. It was almost comforting to learn that methods for fighting the living and human sometimes worked with the supernatural, too, like bringing a measure of comfort and familiarity to something that was new, exotic, and terrifying. By talking Peter out of murdering Lucas I had saved a life; although had it been a flesh-and-blood killer, then I might have been able to save the Carltons and Jake. The body count had risen too much for my liking.

I knew it didn't all rest on my shoulders. I didn't know what I was doing half of the time, and had to go off of what I was told by Sam and Dean. Serenity and I were both in way over our heads with this, and we knew it, too, but like idiots, our curiosity, pride, and need for knowledge and adventure wouldn't allow us to take it slow and start out small. We needed to do what the Winchesters did, not sit at a library all day.

I kicked up one leg out of the water and hooked my ankle around one of the poles going up on the pier. My legs were pink with the drastically cold temperature of the water in combination with the cool chill of early morning, without much heat from the sun to temper it out. Water slid out of my hair but onto my face, neck, back, and shoulders, but my hair clung to my face and throat. The clothes I wore were about five times darker than they were meant to be and felt about five times heavier, too.

"Come on." Sam and Dean must have already gotten up on the dock while I was paddling back with Lucas, because both men helped me. Dean wrapped one arm around my shoulders and hoisted up while I pushed against the dock, getting me out of the water, and once I was on my knees on the pier, Sam took me in a hug. I couldn't tell if it was because he had been scared, proud, or relieved, but hey, I love hugs, so I gladly embraced him right back.

Serenity pulled back from Lucas' limp form just then and the boy's eyes fluttered open weakly. He coughed and rolled onto his side, spitting out water from his lungs, his hair falling in front of him and then sticking to his cheek when he nearly fell asleep from strain.

_We're okay. We did it, we're okay._

* * *

><p>The next morning I went down to the pier by Andrea's house again, but she and her son were out so I couldn't drop in and say goodbye like I had half of a mind to do. Although I was a bit disappointed, I knew we couldn't stay too much longer. Soon enough, the police would notice that their sheriff was missing, and it was just better that the boys and Serenity avoided that kind of attention.<p>

So while Sam, Serenity, and Dean did what they wanted to pass the time before leaving, I walked down the dock and sat myself down on the edge of the pier, taking my shoes and socks off to lower my feet into the water. I had to roll my pants up so that the hems didn't get wet, as the water went up a bit past my ankles.

I got my iPod from its bag, along with my headphones. I loved the serenity and beauty of the lake in front of me and I wanted to remember it with something other than death and pain and fear, something other than drowning and murder and hallucinating voices because of no air.

I scrolled through my songs by artist and ended up with _The Sound of Music._ Though the scene was by no means as great as the views from Austria, it had a certain likening to it that I figured made it an okay fit, so I plugged in my earphones and dissolved out of the waking world. It was easy to sort of lose track of what was going on around me without needing to worry.

It was a little past halfway through the fourth repeat of the song that a hand found its way onto my shoulder. My head snapped back up from where I'd been staring speculatively at the ripples made in the water when I moved my feet, but I relaxed when I saw that it was just Dean. He used my shoulder as a brace and mimicked my stance, except he crossed his legs so that his shoes wouldn't get in the water.

"Having second thoughts?" He asked after a moment of letting me relax. I tugged out my earphones and draped the cord around my neck so that I could converse with more ease.

I knew immediately what he was talking about; the discussion we'd had about whether it was better to be aware and in constant paranoia, or oblivious and more vulnerable to the types of supernatural threats that I used to dismiss as bedtime stories. We'd had the argument while our siblings showered in the respective hotel rooms in Colorado before going after the wendigo. I think he's of the opinion that although I _can _handle myself, I'd be better off staying away from not just them, but hunting in general. I'm pretty sure that the only reason Sam and Dean are tolerating Serenity and I thus far is because they know we're too stubborn to stop hunting now that we know what happens in the dark, and they know that we'd probably get killed trying to hunt without their help and experience.

"Nope," I answered flatly, before shifting and deciding that the water was a nice enough temperature. I pushed myself forward on the dock, letting the water go up a few inches past my ankles. "Just… I wanted to think."

"Thinking too much is dangerous," Dean said wryly.

"I bet you speak from experience." It could have been taken as an insult rather than dry truth, and I meant it that way. Whichever way Dean chose to take it, I could work with. He could make the conversation light with friendly banter or he could choose to keep it serious and on topic.

"You got it." Serious and on topic it is, then. "So, what are you thinking about so hard?"

"Peter Sweeney," I admitted, feeling a light blush rise up in my cheeks as I looked back out to the water. I set my iPod on my thigh and leaned forward, brushing my fingers across the surface of the lake. "I mean, he was murdered. I get that, I'd be pretty pissed off, too. But what he did…" I shivered. "It's inhuman."

Dean took a minute to reply, most likely because I was getting through the emotional part of the supernatural. _Of course _it was inhuman. The ghost of Peter Sweeney was just that; a ghost, but still, if he had enough presence of mind to know what was going on - to trade his real target for the bait - then surely he had some vestiges of his humanity left, right?

"Well… that's the thing. He wasn't human. Not anymore." Dean sighed and glanced over his shoulder to look down the pier behind us before turning back around. "Not everyone becomes a vengeful spirit when they die. It's usually only the ones that hold grudges or can't let go. Ones that die violent deaths, or with strong feelings of guilt, anger, or betrayal. Or ones that were just so evil in their lives that they can't stop it, even in death."

"Well, it sure puts things into perspective," I decided, scooping a small handful of water up from the lake. It ran between my fingers until I tipped my hand and the remaining dripped back to the water, creating small ripples that continued moving in larger rings out until they were obstructed by the posts of the dock. "Why are we spending our time being bitter now when we have plenty of time to do so when there's nothing else to do?"

"Hey, we're only human," Dean chuckled. It didn't seem very appropriate, considering the context, but he had probably had this argument in his head with himself a few hundred times already.

I sighed. "Yeah, but this… that wendigo was one thing, it wasn't human, it couldn't help itself. Peter Sweeney _let _Lucas live. He had choices. He was just too much of a brat to realize that by killing people - even his own killers - he was no different. You can't make a moral distinction between killers when there's another choice available."

"Says who?" Dean asked, turning his head to look at me sideways from his seat next to me.

I refused to look to him but instead sighed again, tipping my head to the right and kicking my legs slowly in the water to watch the effects. "I'm not a saint. If I believed in it I'd say I was going to Hell. I mean, I've committed pretty much every one of the cardinal sins several times. I've killed and lied and double-crossed people for my work." I laughed dryly. "Feel special. You, Sam, and Serenity are the only people I've gone to so much trouble shielding from the police for."

"I'd say 'thank you,' but I figure saving your ass from the wendigo works just as well." He gave me a winning smile, like he hadn't just said something rude and insensitive.

I didn't mind. It was refreshing to talk to a guy who both was a friend and who didn't stumble to backtrack when he said something I could possibly take the wrong way, part of the reason why I'd liked the Winchesters when we'd all met.

"Cute." I rolled my eyes. "Point is, humans all think there's a line between right and wrong, but there are so many variables that there never really is. The entire spectrum of right and wrong is grey, not white or black. And the way people react to what they don't like? We don't talk it out or compromise. Our first reaction is to offend, attack, kill, massacre. Revenge, bloodlust, greed, selfishness - that's what the majority of human reactions are based on, personal gain. We're the worst monsters of all, really."

"You know, I'm glad we're talking. You have this way of making me realize the good of everything we're fighting for." Dean's sarcasm made me realize how morbid I was being but I still just scoffed in reply. "I get that it's tough, I really do - but not all humans are like that. There are the people who taught themselves better and advanced."

I kicked my legs lazily before stilling and leaning back slightly, pushing against the heels of my hands digging against the dock. "Yeah," I agreed faintly, noncommittal. I glanced at him. He seemed worried and he watched me wearily in case I was going to break down, so I forced myself to laugh. "Hey, don't worry about it. If I wanted I could be a philosopher. I could talk the ears off of anybody. I've seen the worst things that humanity has done. Of course I don't understand all of the good in comparison."

Dean stared at me for a long moment before slumping his shoulders and sighing. "Hey, this stays between us, 'kay?" Before I could ask what he was talking about, he reached out with one arm and pulled me over so that I was leaning against his side. His hand gently squeezed my upper arm.

Although I was surprised, it was pleasantly so. I don't have anything against hugs; God knows I'll hug anything if it works in context, so long as I don't get hurt because of it. I just don't normally get to hug many people aside from my sister, and most of the people that I do are women, just because when men are distressed they tend to get bitchy and throw fits whereas females cry and drive themselves insane trying to understand what's going on around them. I settled so my cheek pressed against his shoulder, taking comfort in the smoothness and warmth of the leather jacket while returning the one-armed embrace.

"And don't tell Sam. I don't do chick-flick moments."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, sir." Although I said it sarcastically, I was okay with keeping the "moment" between the two of us - partly because Serenity would never let me hear the end of it, but also because it seemed private, like a personal moment in light of an emotional conversation.

I made no attempt to move.

* * *

><p>We were loading up the Impala again after Serenity grabbed me and forced me to eat some pancakes so I wouldn't "bitch about starving in an hour." Dean seemed content to do most of the lifting, and I figured that his role was generally to pack and load while Sam tied up loose ends, but it seemed wrong to me that he do all of the work for four people, so I helped him lock up the secret compartment of the trunk that contained the arsenal and then shoved in our bags.<p>

It helped to have duffels and backpacks rather than actual suitcases. For one, suitcases generally have a firmer edge and so they're not as pliant and harder to mold to fit in the trunk. For two, they didn't stretch as much and couldn't fit as much in. The four of us were _literally_ living off of what was in the Impala, along with Serenity's and my money and the boys' fake credit cards, so it was a good thing that we could all stash about a week's worth of clothing and necessities into the trunk.

It had been my idea to put some things in a bag for all of us for entertainment; it just made things easier if we could get lost in our own worlds when we needed to so we weren't all on edge from too much people time. Serenity and I had our books, phones, and headphones, while Sam had his laptop and I turned on my mobile Wi-Fi for him when he wanted. Dean seemed mostly content to listen to his cassettes and occasionally bitch about other drivers when he was cut off and thought I was listening.

So, overall, packing really doesn't take that long.

"Heave!" I joked, lifting the last bag up and shoving it in next to the others, pushing it as far back as I could.

"Weakling," Serenity scoffed halfheartedly at my exaggerated effort. I grinned and slammed the trunk of the car.

"Look." We both turned to look to Sam and Dean, standing at the hood of the car. Sam gave his brother a sympathetic face. "We're not going to save everybody."

"I know," Dean replied with a sigh, almost reluctant or at loathe to admit it.

The 'can't save everybody' issue was a dilemma that most moral people have when their job revolved around civilian safety. No matter what you do or how hard you try, people die sometimes. Fact of life. It sucks, but it's true. Sometimes it just starts to feel hopeless, like nothing you do makes a difference, and no matter how many lives you save, you're not doing well enough. It strikes everyone at one time or another and some people let it bother them more than others.

"Sam! Serenity!" I turned back from Serenity when I heard Andrea's pleased tone and couldn't help but smile slightly. _I guess I get to say goodbye after all._ Andrea crossed the street with Lucas holding her hand until they stepped up to the median the Impala was parked in front of. "We're glad we caught you!"

I returned her smile. "I'm glad you caught us. I need as much female presence as possible around these two." I nodded at Sam and Dean with an exaggerated roll of my eyes and Andrea giggled. It was nice to hear her laugh, seeing as the day before had been all sobs and tears and screams.

Dean had the good nature to ignore what I'd said instead of taking it as a slight, and he gave Lucas a smile and a low wave. Lucas held a plate of sandwiches with saran wrap over them, staying at his mother's side but not fearfully behind her as he had.

"We just, um… we made you lunch for the road!" Andrea explained cheerfully, the hand by Lucas squeezing her son's shoulder affectionately. I didn't miss the word choice implicating that Lucas had forsaken drawing for a time to do something with Andrea, and the delight was explained. "Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself."

Lucas looked up at his mother through blonde fringe. "Can I give it to them now?" He asked her sweetly. My breath caught in my throat for a minute before I grinned widely and laughed, finally hearing his voice. I tend to offer the minors that I help any assistance in the future, but actually seeing a vast improvement that I helped cause was fantastic.

"Of course." Andrea returned my smile and let her hand slide off of Lucas.

"Come on, Lucas." Dean beckoned. Lucas walked to Dean and followed him around the car. "Let's load this into the car." The blonde head disappeared behind the black classic for a moment as Dean reopened the trunk.

I waited until Lucas was completely out of earshot before I looked back to Andrea with much gentler concern, but Sam beat me to the punch. "How are you holding up?" He asked sincerely.

Andrea's smile slipped away but she seemed more peaceful than upset, which, while disconcerting, was by no means bad. "It's just gonna take a long time to sort through everything, you know?" Well, no kidding… _it's a freaking miracle if Lucas doesn't need therapy later._

"Andrea," Serenity started, reaching up to clasp one of her arms with the right hand. "I'm really sorry about this whole mess. It wasn't our fault, but you shouldn't have had to deal with consequences of something thirty years' gone."

Andrea held up her hands towards Serenity and shook her head, preventing my sister from offering more condolences. It was almost funny; Serenity very rarely offers other people apologies, not really having the patience to be empathetic of many people's emotions aside from myself and a few of our friends, yet when she does, she's usually silenced before she can finish. I guess it's a testament to her honesty. She's by far one of the best liars I know, but when she wants to be truthful and really means something, you know it. I guess once you know the sentiments, you don't need an explanation.

"You saved my son," Andrea reminded us with an affectionate half-smile to Sam, Serenity, and I. "I can't ask for more than that." She paused before saying with certainty, "Dad loved me. He loved Lucas." She was right. He ran away from his crimes for nearly forty years, but he was willing to risk it all and give his life to keep Andrea and Lucas out of harm's way. "No matter what he did, I just have to hold on to that."

"You're absolutely right," I told her softly, nodding in agreement. "In this sort of situation, I'm not entirely sure how many good options there are, but that's definitely a good path to go toward." I looked over at Dean and Lucas again and I could hear their excited voices coming from behind the car while they loitered, allowing us to finish the conversation.

"Alright, if you're gonna be talking now, this is a very important phrase, so I want you to repeat it one more time."

"Zeppelin rules!"

I looked back to Andrea sheepishly, reaching up to rub the back of my neck. "I'm glad he's talking again, but I'm sorry for the eighties rock phase in advance."

Andrea just laughed.

Dean walked with one hand protectively against Lucas's back as he led the child back around to the median. "You take care of your mom, okay?"

Lucas nodded solemnly. I could tell that he was taking it to heart. "Alright."

"Come here, you," I called, smiling again when Lucas grinned happily and ran to hug my legs. I knelt down to embrace him full-on for a minute, looking up at Serenity when she just raised her eyebrows at me. _What? Hugs._

"Come on, girls!" Dean called, pulling open the door to the driver's seat of the Impala. "Move your asses! We're gonna run out of daylight before we hit the road!"

Serenity sent Dean a very pointed eye-roll. "Yeah, whatever." She offered Andrea a last wave before stepping down from the median and walking along half of the length of the car to the back door. "Don't get your feathers all ruffled."

Dean started up the engine. "That's my cue," I said apologetically, hearing Sam's door slam shut. I ruffled Lucas's hair fondly before stepping backwards onto the asphalt again, waving at the small family before getting in the car.

Oh, yes. The results of our actions far outweighed the cost.

_Now I'm back on the road_

_Chasin' every stone_

_Hope to see you again, 'round here._


	10. Phantom Traveler: Road Trip

**The Road So Far…**

_"__Our dad's gone out on a hunting trip and he hasn't called in a few days."_

_ "__Is your dad in an occult or something? Salt and cats-eye shells."_

_ "__I know it seems hard to believe. I really understand that. But you've seen the proof that the supernatural exists now. I'm sorry you've been shoved into it. But yes, that was the murderous ghost of a woman long dead."_

_ "__Something's wrong, someone else is in the house, they were waiting for Sam to get home."_

_ "__This book – this is Dad's single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here, and he's passed it on to us."_

_ "__I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know – saving people, hunting things. The family business."_

_ "__It threw me over and tried to attack me, but it was repelled by some sort of shield or something. It seemed to hurt the wendigo, but it felt to me like I was getting a nice hug."_

_ "__Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over."_

_ "__When I was a kid, I lost people I loved. When I was around your age, I lost my mom. I remember being really scared."_

_ "__Hey, this stays between us, 'kay?... And don't tell Sam. I don't do chick-flick moments."_

* * *

><p>Before I knew it, a month had passed since Jericho. We ended up in yet another small no-tell motel and paid in cash for two rooms for the night and by morning, Dean and I were sparring; not for the first time. It turned out that hunting came with the difficulty of needing to master patience. Not everything was out and things that were tended to be closer to other hunters, or things that might not even <em>be <em>a hunt. I can deal with staking things out, but not doing _anything _is not something I'm able to tolerate.

So by the time we left Lake Manitoc, Sam and Dean had gotten it in their heads to show Serenity and I how they really live when they're not out staring death in his cloak-covered face. I mean, I don't know for sure that death would be male, per se, but death is a bitch and guys whine a lot, so…

How they really live? Huge change of pace from my term of "normal." We ended up driving four hundred or so miles a day up and down the country for a couple of weeks, staying only once in a well-known hotel (_Days Inn) _and were up and out by eleven the next day, sometimes staying up until three in the morning because we either didn't want to go to sleep or we couldn't. Sometimes I would be lying awake in bed or reading with the lamp on while Serenity read on her phone, head covered by blankets and pretending to sleep so she wasn't bothered, and I would hear a shout from the next room and end up thinking sadly to myself, _Poor Sammy._

He was still having nightmares about his girlfriend, who I'd learned was named Jessica Moore. He affectionately called her Jess whenever he spoke of her, aside from when he and I had been talking while on a beverage run for our older siblings and I hadn't known her full name. In return for telling Sam about a guy I'd dated a few years ago and who I'd ended up punching in the face and storming out on, he laughed and told me that she was in Stanford with him and they'd been dating for eighteen months, and Sam had embarrassedly admitted that he planned on proposing to her before hushing my both awed and empathetic squeals and making me promise not to tell Dean.

Serenity and I were as close as ever, with no mafia and no FBI interference to fuck things up and make us fight due to misunderstood concern for the other's safety. We still shared a room, browsed the internet, watched television, surfed YouTube, and listened to music together in our downtime. When we were in the car, we'd tolerate Dean's music for as long as we could before I'd tell Dean to pull over and Sam and I would switch places so Serenity and I could use my splitter to share our own music. We had both resolved to make our own cassette mix tapes as soon as we could so that if Dean got to listen to _Stairway to Heaven_, we got to listen to _Check Yes, Juliet_.

Or something like that, so the trade was even.

I'd never really been on a road trip for the sole purpose of not staying in one place before, so it was interesting to have nothing particular in mind and pull over when we felt like it to check out something or get something to eat or stretch our legs and drag the boys into a game of tag when we were bored at a rest stop. Dean seemed to have a vague idea of going through every state until something came up, but he switched interstates pretty regularly. Every morning and every afternoon we stopped at a diner or restaurant and combed through the newspapers for anything that could be deemed supernatural.

Of course, we were still united for the purpose of finding their father, John Winchester, as well. John was in the wind. The lookouts I'd issued had come up with absolutely nothing, which fit with what I got from them knowing how to avoid law enforcement. If John had a vehicle, then it was probably legal - so that he wasn't arrested and drawn attention to - but it was also probably under a completely different identity. The boys made a point of calling his phone at least twice a day, sometimes as many as half a dozen times, even, but they never got an answer.

Serenity and I got along spectacularly with the Winchesters. It was a pleasant surprise to see that we mingled and were all very balanced. If any of us had an argument, then the others would soothe things over. By keeping rooms close by, we had keys to each other's rooms and could easily get in to ask for or give help, and I suppose being able to access each other so simply during sleep built on the trust and security. None of us ever really fought and we trusted each other; seeing as Serenity and I didn't usually get many friends that we both got along with so well, it was a delight to know that the people we were traveling with were good matches for us.

My relationships with the boys individually was a bit different, but both were safe and, in a way, comforting. Sam was taller than me, but his trademark expressions were the bitchface and the puppy dog eyes, which he pulled off incredibly well while barely trying. In a way, his generally mild-mannered and calm demeanor made him seem sweet and maybe a bit innocent, despite that I know he's not. Some days I wanted to say that he was like a younger brother, but other days, like when I ended up getting clawed by a stray cat and he picked it up and starting petting it, he seemed older. One thing was for sure; we were close and trusted each other, and we definitely bonded over the experiences that came from having older siblings that exercised that title.

Dean was closer to my height which made it easier to forget that he had even more years on me than Sam, but if you didn't know our individual ages then you could probably guess we were both in our early twenties. Dean looks youthful and energetic most of the time (unless he's tired) and I've always looked a bit older than I actually am. I quickly learned the things that pissed him off and the types of music he liked, and by extension I figured out a bit of what his life growing up had been like before I mentally scolded myself for starting to psychoanalyze my friend. Although he had been conditioned to be serious and witty, he was flirty and fun in the off time. He took confidences to heart and yet was reluctant to make other people into confidantes, which was not only understandable, but also relatable.

I ducked down quickly and followed through by dropping to my knees, kicking out with one shoe and managing to hook my ankle around Dean's leg. The older Winchester grunted when I rolled over, twisting my legs, and pulled him down with me. He braced himself on the ground before he landed on top of me and pulled his weapon back over his shoulder to strike.

In a practiced move, I wrapped one leg around both of his and head butted his chest, forcing a soft groan from him as he was pushed back. I followed him by leaning up and pushed myself on top of him, straddling his hips and lunging forward to capture his wrists, pinning his arms above his head, and I held my weapon to his throat.

The entire scene took less than twenty seconds and the "weapons" were actually narrow sticks with the ends dipped in engine grease so that we would know if we landed any blows without actually hurting each other. Twenty minutes of rigorous brawling in and both of us would need a shower and a change of clothes, because the engine grease is… well, greasy, and not only does it leave a mark on clothes but it feels uncomfortable on skin.

"Stop going easy on me," I complained, sitting up straight and dropping my stick onto the ground. I reached up both hands to comb my hair back from around my face and pulled the ponytail holder off of my wrists and around my hair, still keeping him on the ground with my weight. "You know I've been fighting murderers for years. I can take a little bit of bruising."

"Fine. I'll give it my best shot next time," Dean growled, and without warning he pitched up. I was taken by surprise and was knocked off of him, hands flying away from my hair and into defensive fists. The hunter rolled onto his stomach, pushing himself off of the ground, and standing up before brushing the dust off of his hands.

"Like you're naturally that smooth. How long were you planning that move?" I demanded, wiping my hands on my jeans.

He cast me a look that was usually followed by some comment that, to my chagrin, I was hard-pressed to find a sensible retort to. "About as long as you were planning the one that got me on the ground."

I rolled my eyes. "I wasn't planning it," I grumbled rebelliously before clearing my throat and raising my voice back to normal volume. Hopefully, the manager of the hotel wouldn't come out now that Dean and I were done pretending to beat the hell out of each other. "Are you satisfied I'm good with knives yet?"

Dean looked like he was considering it. "You need to be more on the defensive," he decided after looking first at himself, then at me and seeing how "bloody" we were.

"Says the guy whose femoral artery was slashed!" I pointed to his jeans for emphasis, even though he wouldn't be able to see exactly where I'd "hit," just behind his leg. "If they were real knives, I'd be nowhere near dead!" I protested.

"That's if you're fighting a human." Dean abandoned his stick on the ground and crossed to the lone Impala in the parking lot, otherwise empty except for a Honda SUV. He picked up one of the water bottles from the hood and unscrewed the cap. "Most supernatural creatures are much faster. If those were your reflexes to human speed, it wasn't bad, but you aren't prepared for superhuman speed." He lifted the bottle and started chugging the water, a few drops running past his lips and down his jaw.

"Don't choke," I muttered, kicking the ground sullenly as I crossed over to join him. I picked up my bottle and then pushed myself up onto the front of the car, swinging my legs a foot above the ground.

Dean panted slightly, out of breath, when he finally got through half of his water. He drew his wrist across his mouth to wipe away stray water. "Hey. You'll get there." He said with a reassuring smile. It couldn't be easy for him to be like a mentor for a couple of girls he hadn't known for relatively long, given his natural attitude, but he was taking it in stride, which I appreciated. "That's why you're with Sammy and me, so we can teach you."

"Sammy and I," I corrected immediately.

"Bitch," he muttered, beginning to pout.

"Dork."

* * *

><p>I woke up when I heard the door to the hotel room creaking open and almost dreaded opening my eyes to the light. I didn't feel like I was in the same bed as I'd been in when I fell asleep last night and I squinted to see where I was - in Dean's and Sam's hotel room, Serenity already awake on her computer and sitting at the foot of the bed I was stretched out on. Dean was rolled onto his side facing the window on the opposite bed, presumably still asleep.<p>

Serenity and Sam had been doing stuff on their laptop and I'd gotten bored, so I'd gone to the boys' room to see what Dean was doing and we ended up going through a bit of alcohol while making fun of a soap opera on cable. So what if Serenity and I weren't technically legal? If we can work in the mafia and FBI, then we figure we're mature enough to drink, and big surprise, no one has ever argued that point with us.

"Morning, sunshine!" Sam's voice sang a bit higher in pitch than normal, probably trying to bother me under the assumption that I had a hangover. I sat up on the bed, surprised that I _didn't _have any sort of ache or telltale sign of excessive alcohol consumption, but I felt fine, other than a slight buzz in my head. He shut the door to the room behind him.

The sound of the door shutting made Dean stir and he rolled over onto his back, groaning. "What time is it?"

"Five forty-nine," Serenity answered immediately, sounding almost bored as she read it from the computer screen.

"In the morning," I added with no small amount of disgust, eyeing the window and the very pointed lack of light coming through. "What could you have possibly thought was a good reason for waking us up at this ungodly hour?"

"Relax," Serenity hushed me with a roll of her eyes, slapping my leg painfully hard to make me shut up. "Sam brought coffee."

"Never mind. Makes sense. Come on, Dean, the world is waiting." I leaned forward eagerly to grab one of the Styrofoam to-go cups from the cardboard carrier Sam held and he stayed still long enough for me to grab it before pulling away and handing one to Serenity.

"Where does the day go?" Dean grumbled, forcing himself to sit up on the bed. The blankets fell down and pooled over his lap.

"Trick question. It hasn't happened yet," I quipped, fanning my hand over my coffee to make it safer to drink. "How much sleep did everyone get?" I didn't want Dean driving if he hadn't gotten a few hours, but I didn't have any idea if Sam or Serenity slept. Seeing as I passed out on Sam's bed sometime past midnight, Sam had probably stayed in Serenity's and my room for the night.

"Ah… I grabbed a couple hours," Sam volunteered, sitting down on the edge of Dean's bed and discarding the now useless drink carrier.

"Liar," Serenity scoffed, immediately calling him out on it. "While I was watching TV, you were watching some infomercial at three and drinking that awful hotel coffee."

Sam chuckled, not seeming too upset about his bluff being called. "What can I say? It's riveting TV."

"You clearly haven't seen any good television in a while," Serenity commented with a concerned frown.

Dean seemed to transition into the protective older brother with the new information and he fixed Sam with a stern, albeit tired, stare. "When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "A little while, I guess. It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, it is," Dean objected.

"Look, I appreciate your concern-"

"Oh, I'm not concerned about you," Dean cut him off quickly. "It's your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp."

"Charming," I remarked sarcastically, but for the most part, I went ignored.

"Seriously…" Dean said with a glance at me, like he was saying, _see, it was a joke, I'm not really that much of a douche. _"Are you still having nightmares about Jess?" It was obvious to anyone by the way he would shout or whimper in his sleep or suddenly jerk awake that he was having nightmares, but the assumption that they were about Jess, while an assumption, was pretty damn accurate, if Sam's sudden blush was anything to go by.

"Yeah," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, before he cleared his throat and spoke louder. A quick look at Serenity showed that my sister cared about Sam's feelings enough to look up from the computer, giving him her undivided attention. "But it's not just her. It's everything. I just… forgot, you know? This job… man, it gets to you."

I'd noticed. I definitely hadn't forgotten Peter Sweeney's vengeful spirit, drowning innocent people to get back at his murderers from nearly forty years ago, and even in my sleep I couldn't completely forget about the horrific wendigo that had mysteriously been prevented from snapping my neck after seeming to break my bones - nor did I miss that I'd been miraculously healed of the injuries I'd sustained up to that point.

"You can't let it get to you, Sam," I said, knowing exactly what he was talking about. "Feel bad about things. It's human. But don't bring it home." I offered him a sympathetic smile. "Even I had those issues, just with humans as killers. It's never going to get easier to think about, but if you let it haunt you, it will destroy you."

"Yeah, Sam." Dean agreed, nodding seriously. "All that stuff? You have to check it in at the door."

"So, what? All this, it… _never _keeps you up at night?" Sam arched one eyebrow in challenge to Dean, appearing to think that Dean was capable of hypocrisy. Dean shrugged and shook his head. "Never? You're never afraid?" Sam repeated incredulously.

"No… not really," Dean answered. I raised my eyebrows at him, having seen how angry he got when he was in those stressful situations - and he expresses emotions he doesn't want to deal with in anger.

Sam fixed Dean with a long, unimpressed stare, complete with a single arched eyebrow before he dove across the mattress, shoving his hand under Dean's pillow. The older brother struggled to turn around and slammed his fist on the pillow to keep it down, but Sam had already grasped and pulled on the handle of a long, sharp hunting knife. The blade glinted in the artificial light from overhead.

Dean gave Sam a scowl and lunged forward to take the knife back. "That's not fear," he denied resolutely. "That's precaution."

Sam stared at him in disbelief for a moment before waving with one hand, shaking his head while Dean replaced the knife under the pillow. "Whatever. Fine. I'm too tired to argue."

It was like there was some divine force saying that they didn't want the boys to argue, either, because Dean's phone starting ringing at that moment, screen lighting up as it buzzed frantically on the bedside stand. A song started playing (_"And you shook me all night long!"_) - I think it was AC/DC, but I'm not an expert on what Sam refers to as "mullet rock."

Dean looked away from Sam to pick up the phone and he shifted so he could throw his legs over the edge of the bed, raising the phone up and striding to get to his bag at the same time. "Hello?"

He pushed through his things and I reached up my hands to my hair without much of a thought, grimacing when I felt the tangles and doing my best to push even the snarls into lying down somewhat until I could deal with it. I looked around the room and spotted a couple of small signs saying that I'd spent the night drinking and watching TV with Dean; my phone lying on the bedside table next to a glass, and my shoes shoved against the wall by the closet. All in all it wasn't much, but seeing my personal effects made me smirk a bit, like I was making sure they knew I was the boss here - mostly because I had paid for the rooms this time around and if the boys went wild, they'd be the ones dealing with it because I would know.

"Oh, right, yeah." Dean held up a plain black shirt for inspection before throwing it down onto the bed, still talking into the receiver. "Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania - the poltergeist thing." A slight pause. "It's not back, is it?" The tension in his shoulders almost immediately relaxed. "What is it?" A moment later he grabbed a pair of jeans and lifted his eyes up to mine in a silent signal to get ready to hunt. A smile grew on my face despite my apprehension.

"C'mon, Ser!" I cheered quietly, mindful of Dean's conversation, but I cast my sister an excited grin. Because everything was still so _new_, so… _wonderful _at the same time as horrifying. I felt like a child learning about the world again, where there seemed to be too much and yet I couldn't possibly get enough - in a way, it was exactly like that, because I was learning about the world again, and in a new light.

* * *

><p>When we got to the airport in Pennsylvania, I was immediately on edge about the new case, unsure whether I should remain excited or increase my level of apprehension - because <em>seriously<em>, what good could come from _supernatural _and an _airport_, with lots of big planes with lots of people that could _die _if one tiny, seemingly-insignificant thing was wrong with the technology or equipment?! But my clearance got my three comrades through the security to meet Dean's friend halfway, and he took us out of the actual building and to a field running behind it, with a couple of people monitoring the runway within range of sight.

"What's the problem around here, then?" I asked, squinting slightly against the sunlight and relaxing slightly once we entered a more shadowed area where part of the airport cast a long, dark block on the ground.

The airport staff reached up to rub the back of his neck. He was older; probably somewhere in his early forties, with sandy blonde hair kept short and hairline already receding. He had the age lines of someone who stressed constantly and the deportment of a typical desk worker - he wore a plaid button-up not unlike Sam's and slacks, shirt tucked in. He had a bit of weight to him that came a bit with both aging and with having a job that didn't require much physical exertion.

"Well, it's not really a problem, Agent Kasakabe," he chuckled uneasily.

Serenity scoffed indelicately as she walked next to Sam. While she and Sam were slightly behind, Dean and I walked on either side of the man whose lanyard-tied nametag called Jerry Panowski. "Hey, I'm calling bull on that," she called up. "You wouldn't have called up these guys if you weren't in any trouble."

With that, I realized what the issue was - the awkward stumble around my title and the attempt to brush off any issues? He didn't realize that I was someone that he could trust with the issues he was having. I offered him a slight smile that I hoped came across as reassuring. "You can relax, sir. I'm on unofficial sabbatical. My sister and I are working _with _the Winchesters." I hoped that the emphasis on the word "with" would tell him that we were working with them on the "special" topics.

Jerry's shoulders immediately slumped and he sighed in relief. "I was wondering what he had done, calling in the feds," he admitted, rolling his eyes in Dean's general direction. "Well, I'm welcoming to all the help I can get."

"That's why we're here," I promised. "No arrests or hospitalizations coming from us."

"Thanks for making the trip," Jerry offered, before looking back to Dean. It was clear from the way he tried to face Dean as well as he could that he respected the older brother from their prior meeting. "I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around." He turned slightly so he could look over his shoulder at Sam brightly. "Dean and your dad really helped me out."

"Yeah, he told me." Sam returned the friendliness with a warm half-smile, but I could tell he was a bit awkward due to the continued mention of his family's work in his absence. "It was a poltergeist?"

A runway manager happened to overhear the last couple of words because he turned around to walk backwards, jersey hanging loose around his torso and bright orange cones held loosely in his hands. "_Poltergeist_?" He repeated enthusiastically, yelling to cover the distance. "Man, I loved that movie!"

"Go back to your knitting!" Serenity shouted at him, lifting up her hand to flip him off before looking back to Sam's bemused stare. "Problem?" She asked, not nearly as challenging as she had been five seconds ago. Sam just smiled and shook his head.

Jerry quickly turned his attention back to the question Sam had asked. "Damn right it was a poltergeist," he agreed vehemently. "Practically tore our house apart! Tell you something," he added to me, nodding in Dean's direction. "If it wasn't for him and his dad, I probably wouldn't be alive."

"I know the feeling," I commented dryly. "Isn't it just awful to be blindsided by paranormal activity?"

"Is there a new _Paranormal Activity?!"_ Another random worker asked happily, having caught part of what I said.

"Hey, no one's talking to you!" Jerry barked roughly in reprimand. The man seemed sufficiently shaken, lowering his head submissively and carrying on. Jerry seemed satisfied and changed the topic. "Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?"

Sam frowned a bit like he couldn't decide how to answer that question and the ones that would probably follow up. "Yeah, I was. I'm - taking some time off," he finally said, with a slight break.

"Well, he was real proud of you," Jerry told him firmly, an undeniable level of certainty in his voice. Sam was visibly taken aback, his back straightening and shoulders squaring. "I could tell. He talked about you all the time."

"He did?" Sam's voice sounded slightly strangled. _Damn, if he's that stunned his father was proud, then their relationship must be really strained._

"You bet he did!" Jerry returned, not seeming to notice anything off kilter about Sam's replies. "Oh, hey, you know, I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?"

Dean's grimace didn't go unnoticed by me and his mouth remained open for a few seconds as he grappled with phrases that kept eluding him. "He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now."

Jerry chuckled, taking it all in good-natured humor. "Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and the girls!" He turned around and walked steadily backwards, knowing where he was going even as he turned the side of the building. The four of us followed and I took notice of the back entrance in the shape of a grey door. "Even trade, I'd say, huh?"

I didn't have the heart to tell him that Serenity and I were really just starting out and without Sam and Dean we were pretty much useless, but Sam was the one that replied so we didn't have to. "No, not by a long shot," Sam answered, sounding almost joking and humble, but a look at him showed that his eyes were sad, almost disappointed. Serenity lifted up one hand to pat his arm sympathetically.

"I've got something I want you lot to hear," Jerry shared, much more seriously than he had said anything before now, looking the four of us over before leaning against the door to get it to open.

* * *

><p>This time, Sam and Dean took the chairs across from the desk while Jerry took his seat across from them. Serenity and I stood on each side of the boys and I crossed my arms, the material of my suit jacket pulling up slightly from my hips, making me look a bit like an impatient 'suit.' It wasn't how I intended to come across, but I made a mental note to get a more comfortable, less official-looking jacket.<p>

"I listened to this." Jerry confided, holding up a burned, blank CD to show us before he set it in the CD-ROM and slid it into the monitor. "And… well… it sounded like it was up your alley." The drive hissed slightly as the feed took in the CD and I waited almost anxiously for it to load. What could so plainly have _SUPERNATURAL: CALL EXPERT HUNTERS IMMEDIATELY_ written on it that wasn't totally awful? "Normally I wouldn't have access to this," insert spared glance to me.

"Stop freaking the guy out, Holly," Serenity shot at me with a disapproving yet mocking frown.

"I'm not doing anything!" I protested.

Jerry continued. "It's the cockpit voice recorder for _United Britannia _flight twenty-four eighty-five. It was one of ours."

I put my listening ears on as he hit the button to make the recording start to play and I heard the static almost immediately. There was a long, high-pitched hissing in the background that certainly didn't sound natural, hidden just underneath the sound of alarms and the power of rushing, strong air.

The voice on the recording was that of a panicked male. _"Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is _United Britannia _two-four-eight-five - immediate instruction help!_" I could already piece together what had happened - a plane crash. I almost felt sick to my stomach.

_"_United Britannia _two-four-eight-five, I copy your message."_ A new, calmer male voice said, with a significantly clearer read-out than the voice coming from inside the crashing plane.

_"__-May be experiencing some mechanical failure-"_

The message was interrupted by a long, low _whooshing _sound that was both sinister and malevolent at the same time. I'd say it sounded foreboding if it didn't seem like it was just the sound of wind, but that was before even that was overridden by a painfully sharp growling sound, sharply accented by the fluctuating pitches as it went from an animalistic low to an unexpected high before the recording ended. I winced.

Jerry sighed as he heard it and he shook his head. Sam had his head tipped to one side, lips parted slightly in concentration. "Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now they're saying mechanical failure - cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board, and only seven got out alive." There was a sharp, almost painful lurch in my stomach that I tried to ignore. Judging by how Serenity shifted uncomfortably, she felt something damn near the same. "The pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh… well." He coughed pointedly. "He's pretty broken up about it, like it was his fault."

I narrowed my eyes. "Mechanical failure is rarely at the pilot's fault."

"You think something supernatural did it?" Serenity bluntly asked, abandoning the pretense of the collected but flippant huntress that she had unintentionally built up.

"Yes. I do," Jerry answered with a very slight pause, like he was dreading admitting to it.

Sam nodded and held up his hands, striking down fingers and ticking off as he made a list. "Jerry," he started, voice calm but with a slight edge to it, like he was shaken by the recording but trying not to let it show. "We're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors-"

"Alright," Jerry nodded in assent, watching attentively.

"And, uh." Dean leaned forward inquisitively. "Any way we can take a look at the wreckage?" He seemed to realize a moment too late that he asked the wrong person and he turned around to look at me.

"It's federal," I admitted, but before he could get his hopes up, I made sure to continue. "But it's not going to go straight to FBI. Until they ascertain what could have caused the crash, the Federal Aviation Administration will be keeping a close watch on who comes in and out of the collected debris site, airline-employed, government-employed - doesn't matter."

Jerry shrugged apologetically towards Dean. "The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage - fellas, the FAA, NTSB, and feds have it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No _way _I've got that kind of clearance."

Serenity sighed wistfully, like she knew it couldn't have been that easy, but she had to dream anyway. "It's alright, we'll find a way in."

I reached for my phone in my pocket and brought it out of the passive sleep mode. "I'm going to make a call," I announced, already beginning to turn towards the door. "I might have a friend in the FAA."

* * *

><p>Sam had my laptop out on top of the Impala, leaning against the door and running the sound programs he'd installed for me, going through the recording of the plane crash. I was trying to pay attention, really, but I had to keep looking back at the more-than-a-little-shady business at the corner of the block where Dean and Serenity had both disappeared; Dean to get fake identities and Serenity to make sure that he didn't go overboard and get something that was a little too obvious.<p>

"Holly!" Sam called, getting my attention again when he saw where I was fixing my wrathful gaze on. I looked back to him unhappily and crossed my arms. His eyes softened. "I know you don't like it, but you just have to remember that we're not doing it to be illegal, we're doing it to save lives."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I grumbled, leaning against the Impala. "Doesn't mean I have to like it." I sighed then. I knew that it was pointless to keep trying to persuade them to shake off their illegal methods. "Just… keep doing whatever it was you were doing."

Sam nodded slightly and turned more so he faced the laptop and I reluctantly did the same next to him. "Do you know what EVP is?"

I rolled my eyes, already relaxing a bit. "Everyone knows what EVP is, Sammy. It's Ghostbusters 101 - electronic voice phenomena."

"Right," Sam nodded, pleased. "Spirits and certain remains give off electromagnetic energies. We use EMF meters to find them, and they'll lead us to the spirit or remains in question. It can help us determine what we're dealing with. But sometimes the spirits speak." I waited hopefully for him to press the play button over the sound waves and frequency levels. "Most of the time, EVP is how we can hear and understand them."

"Right, because… humans can't understand or comprehend certain frequencies, so we have to use computer programs to slow and pick out the dialogue from the static." I motioned to my laptop, sat on the roof of the car. "Is that what you're doing there?"

"Pretty much." He glanced at the status. "It looks like it's almost done going through the tape."

My eyes darted back to the shop when the door pushed open and thankfully, Serenity and Dean came out, both with satisfied smiles. Well, Dean started out smiling, but Serenity elbowed him, and then he was grimacing while she was smiling. So, close enough.

"What took you so long?" I asked when they reached the Impala parked at the curb, crossing my arms.

"Cool your jets," Serenity told me with a roll of her eyes at my predictable irritation. "No one died and no one got punched out, so it's all good."

Dean held up two fake identity cards for himself and Sam, both looking admittedly realistic. "Can't rush perfection," he explained airily with a flirty smile.

"Like I said, what took you so long?" I sniped, ignored the smile and instead taking one of the cards, surveying it and holding it up to the sunlight. I tried to ignore the impulsive desire to go in that shop and shut it down when I saw just how accurate the forgery was - even the seal was visible over the lamination. I'm pretty sure my eyes bugged out of my head. _"Homeland Security?!"_ I whisper-screamed.

Sam pulled the ID out of my hands and I just stared in dismay at where the card used to be while the younger Winchester flipped it over. "That's pretty illegal," he admitted. "Even for us."

"Yeah, well, it's something new," Dean explained, shrugging his shoulders a bit dismissively, like it was no big deal. "You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times." He glanced at me. "You okay?"

I squeezed my eyes shut and tipped my head back so I would have been staring up at the sky and I repeatedly clenched my fists, trying not to get too worked up over it.

"She just needs to relax," Serenity offered when it became clear I wasn't going to answer. "This whole law-breaking thing is like an intervention. If we don't give her cigarettes or heroin, she'll get over it in an hour, tops."

"Right. Well, in that case… Hey Holls, come back to Earth." Dean hit me lightly in the arm and I took a deep breath before opening my eyes again.

"I'm okay," I said calmly, more to myself than to any of them. "I'm an accomplice to fraudulence that has the potential to put all of America at risk, but I'm okay. I am okay…"

"Holly," Sam started, half amused and half pitying.

_"__I'm okay, Sammy!"_ Sam held up his hands in surrender.

"What have you guys got?" Dean asked, pocketing his ID and letting Sam keep the other.

"Well," Sam started, gently picking up my laptop from the top of the Impala. He cradled it with one arm like it was a treasure. "There's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder."

"Yeah?" Serenity asked, leaning forward to look at the computer screen with new interest. "What is it saying?"

Sam hit play on the clip and turned it up so we could hear. It was raspy and full of static but I could hear a hissy, scratchy voice that I hadn't been able to make out before. It was whispery but rough and fluctuated between low and high pitch. _"Nooooo suuurviiivorssss…" _It drew out the words and the voice was tainted with malice.

"No survivors?" I repeated once the clip stopped as it ran out of audio. "Jerry said there were seven survivors. What the hell has that thing been smoking?"

"Probably wrapped brimstone," Serenity commented with a bit of a smirk. I nodded slightly towards her - had to give her credit for that one, since it was actually pretty good.

"So what are you thinking?" Dean asked, directing the question towards Sam. "A haunted flight?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders, still holding onto my laptop so it didn't fall. "There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships - like phantom travelers." Dean hummed to get him to continue on the line that he was on. "Or, remember flight four-oh-one?"

"Right." Dean nodded, eyes lighting up for a moment in recognition. "The one that crashed. The airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, and then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted _those _flights."

"Maybe we've got a similar deal," Sam suggested.

"So, survivors." Dean rubbed the palms of his hands together. "Which one do you want to talk to first?"

I brightened significantly. Jerry had provided the passenger manifestos and the first thing I had done was gone through the survivors and figured out where they were, thinking that we might want to talk to them to collect clues. "Max Jaffey," I told Dean, a bit proud for figuring something out on my own. "One, he's nearby. Secondly, if anyone saw something more traumatizing than your run-of-the-mill crashing plane, it was him."

"How do you know that?" Dean asked.

I held up my cell phone with a smile. "While you idiots were getting Homeland Security badges and Sammy was trippin' out my computer, I was doing the normal type of research. I called his mother, and she told me he checked himself into a mental hospital almost immediately after the crash."

* * *

><p>I've never spent a lot of time at mental hospitals, but there have been a couple times when I've been required to visit one for a case (or pretend to be a patient, but while awesome and crazy fun, it's an entirely different story). All asylums are a bit different, but none are completely out of range of the television depictions. However, a lot of them have courtyards for the patients and their visitors.<p>

Institutional gardens are some of the prettiest ones I've ever seen, to be honest. With funding that extends beyond pocket money, they can make it very scenic, and they hire people to keep it that way. There are sidewalks among long paths of trimmed, healthy grass and blooming flowers. In the turning weather the petals were just now dulling in vibrancy, the blossoms starting to wilt very slightly. The fountains in the yard hadn't been turned off yet, and so as Dean and I walked with Max Jaffey, visitors' badges pinned to our jackets, I found my eyes frequently wandering to the beautiful stone carvings spurting up clear water.

Max Jaffey was in his early twenties. Contrary to stereotypical belief, he wasn't wearing white clothes issued by the institute. Actually, he was allowed to keep his own outfits, so he wore loose jeans and a dark grey tank top, a sweater of the same color over his shoulders and left unzipped. His hair was short and curly, unruly, but probably because one of his nervous habits was pushing his hand through it. He walked with a cane for stability and a slight limp persisted, likely an injury caused during the crash.

"I don't understand," Max said, twisting his face slightly into an expression of confusion. Dean and I walked on either side of him, Dean in a professional suit that he'd bitched about for a long time beforehand complete with tie and jacket, and me in my normal work clothes - dark jeans, dark tie, and a white button-down under a grey-black suit jacket. It's not the normal attire for female law enforcement, but I refuse to wear skirts but I don't mind jackets and ties, so there we go. "I already spoke with Homeland Security."

"Well, preliminary investigations yielded unexpected results," I answered as calmly as I could after a second of deliberating on the excuse. "So if you'll just answer some questions for us, that would be fantastic." I cast another look to Dean over the shorter man's head for him to go on.

"Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything…" Dean paused, pretending to fish for a word. I had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly what phrases and terms he wanted to use but didn't want to come across as suspicious. "Unusual?"

We had already gone through some of this. Although none of us particularly wanted to split up, we had decided not to attract attention. If I were investigating a plane crash rather than a plane haunt, I wouldn't take three people with me as backup. Normally Serenity would be conducting the investigation with me, if anyone, but we both knew that the Winchesters were far better versed.

"Like what?" Max asked, not assuaged by my sketchy explanation.

Dean shrugged, lifting his shoulders casually. "Strange lights… weird noises… maybe voices?"

Max scowled in annoyance. "No, nothing." Suspicion was creeping into his voice at the odd questions.

"Mr. Joffey-" Dean started with a slight cough.

I shot him a dark look and cleared my throat very pointedly. "_Jaffey_," I hissed.

"Jaffey," Dean nodded quickly, recovering with no sign of embarrassment. "You checked yourself in here, right?" Max nodded but his lips were pulled up in a tight attempt to refrain from scowling. "Can I ask why?"

"I was a little stressed," Max replied quickly, voice sharp in ire. "I survived a plane crash!"

I looked back up towards the blue sky at the cumulous clouds, puffy and white, and hoped that Dean would know when to stop being an idiot. Then I nearly stumbled on the edge of the pavement laid on the path and I looked down again, recovering my footing with ease.

"Uh-huh." Dean kept his eyes glued on Max carefully, searching for any signs of deceit and lies. "And that's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?"

"For God's sake, he was in a giant metal box that fell from thousands of feet in the air, complete with corpses, screaming, and explosions," I hissed with a roll of my eyes. "Who the hell wouldn't be afraid?"

"I - I don't want to talk about this anymore," Max stated firmly, quickly getting over the stumble in his words.

"See, I think maybe you did see something up there," Dean argued, not letting the subject lay to rest. While a bit annoying, I had to admit that it would be pointless to not press for information, despite how volatile the subject's attitude may be. "We need to know that."

"No," Max denied, shaking his head fervently, denying to himself almost as much as he was to Dean. "No, I was… delusional. Seeing things." His voice took on a faraway quality as he recalled and he suddenly shook violently, a long shudder that had his head shaking and his shoulders rolling.

I looked over at Dean and he met my eyes, in agreement that Max really had seen something and my "amateur" research had actually wielded some damn good information so Serenity's going to get an "I told you so" later.

"It's alright," I said smoothly, placating, tapping into that natural charisma. I can feel sympathy for people I know; I can fake it to strangers pretty well, and it helps that I can understand that Max must feel pretty freaked out, seeing something so unnatural that he locked himself in an insane asylum in response. "But see, we have to investigate any possibility of the circumstance repeating itself. Even if you think it may be irrelevant, it could be a lead we should follow. Just tell us what you _thought _you saw."

In contrast to Dean's insistence, Max responded well to the gentle coercion. His eyes narrowed and he thought over his words carefully. I was prepared to nudge his side to bring him out of the memory if he showed any signs of distress, because the last thing I needed was a post-traumatic-stress-induced panic attack resulting in some bruises and blood. Most people with mental trauma don't get violent when they have episodes but some do, and even if they normally are nice people, they can do some damage.

And isn't "Damage-Control" my middle name?

"There was… this… _man_," Max finally struggled to say, swallowing nervously and seeming very unsure about the correct title of what he saw. "And, uh, he had these… eyes." _Well, I should certainly hope so_, I thought wryly, but refrained from saying out loud. "These, uh… _black _eyes." And that caught my attention. "I saw him…" he faltered before adding, "At least, I _thought _I saw him…" He trailed off.

"What?" Dean asked, pushing for more.

Max looked up to me, finding me more hospitable than Dean. He was frowning in both anxiety and unease - totally normal after seeing someone with black eyes having something to do with a plane crash, I suppose. "He opened the emergency exit," the survivor finally stated with an air of resignation. "But that's… that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like, two _tons _of pressure on that door."

"The exact amount depends on the plane, but yes, there is generally around that range," I replied in confirmation. I wasn't entirely sure that he was correct in the "two" part of it, but I did know that when planes were in flight, the cabins were automatically pressurized. Tons of metals and machinery made the pressure against the doors incredible, which is why there's never any guards specifically watching the emergency exits.

"This man…" Dean started. It sounded like he was trying not to say something else that implied "inhuman" by the way he paused slightly. "Uh, did he seem to appear and disappear quickly? It would look something like a mirage," he supplied.

Max tipped his head to Dean, what used to be irritation now disgust. "What are you? Nuts?"

"Possibly," I muttered under my breath. _We probably have more of a place in this institute than you do._

"No," Max finally answered, shaking his head quickly. "He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me."

* * *

><p>I was sitting alone in the Impala's passenger seat when the Winchesters and Serenity returned. I was still wearing my work clothes from visiting Jaffey an hour previously, except I had ditched the jacket and loosened the tie, blasting the air conditioning. When Serenity opened the back door, I had one leg up so the ankle was over the opposite thigh. On one leg rested a notebook and I held the spine of a second one against my other leg, using it as a surface to write on with a mechanical pencil.<p>

"What are you doing?" Serenity asked immediately, sliding in and shutting the door behind her.

"Oh. Which notebook?" I asked, just to make sure.

When I use notebooks, they can be either kept neat and organized, or the contents can be all over the place. Generally it depends on my mood and how I feel about what I'm using them for. If I'm really serious about it then I keep it neat and make a point to change my handwriting to emphasize importance or relativity. If it's just something I'm doing for convenience then it doesn't particularly matter; my memory works to remember what's where. My notebooks are generally a good means of identifying what's going on in my head at a point in time. My penmanship changes legibility and emphasis with anger and relaxation and whatnot.

The notebooks were both kept neat; the information was both delicate and important. "Both," Serenity replied, pulling her seat belt across her chest while Sam and Dean opened their doors to the car.

I tapped the end of my pencil against the one on my right leg that I had been working with when Serenity came out. "This one's for this case. It's the information I've collected that might be of relevance. If there are any tells, I want to be able to remember them in another hunt." This was more like a set of notes than anything.

_Kittanning, Pennsylvania_

_Civilian - Airport Staff - Jerry Panowski_

_Airline crash - flight 2485_

_EVP - "No survivors" (deep voice, masculine(?))_

_Seven survivors_

_Survivor #3 (Jaffey, Maxwell) recalls strange passenger w/ black eyes - solid form, consistent visibility_

_Emergency door opened. Cause of crash? Opened by black-eyes. Mechanical failure?_

_Human? Inhuman strength. Apparition - __consistent visibility_.

Dean slid into the driver's seat and took a glance over at the notes before rolling his eyes. "Nerd," he accused under his breath. "So what's in the second book?"

The other one was significantly more organized, written in paragraphs with underlining and italicizing and capitals. "Oh…" I started, reaching up to rub the back of my neck. "Well, it's… I'm trying to reduce the supernatural to science," I admitted, offering Dean a sheepish smile.

Dean scoffed, as I'd predicted, and Serenity poked me roughly in the shoulder over the edge of my seat. "You can't do that, Holly, that's why it's called _super_natural," my sister stated.

"No, but listen," I argued. "I _need _to try to understand this, and if I can explain it then maybe I can lessen the ignorance of the world to the supernatural dangers. Look, the woman in white - law of conservation of energy states that energy can be neither created nor destroyed, but energy is used in everything living organisms do. Humans have a vast variety of chemical reactions inside of their bodies every millisecond, forget about the chemicals being produced and released that control emotional status. Constance Welch committed suicide after temporary insanity - the chemicals were really pumping, the chemical glands in her brain were more active - grief, sadness, anger, vengeance, horror, guilt - all going into overdrive at once and making her mentally unstable. Now it's just a theory, but what if not all of the energy is transferred at death? Maybe some of it remains as its imprint. And people can't normally _see _mere energy, but if there's a certain stimuli or circuit to it, then energy can manifest itself as light, heat, and whatnot, and that could be how we were able to see the apparition." I finished with quite a bit of pride in my voice.

"That's nice, Holly," Serenity sighed while Dean twisted the keys in the ignition. "But you can't knock everything down to science. If this could be easily explained then the world would already know about it. What about the wendigo, huh?"

"I was thinking about that, too!" I said defensively. "And I was thinking - evolution, development - it all comes down to science and chemicals."

"And genetics," Sam added, taking Serenity and Dean's side but offering me an empathetic half-smile.

"But if what makes a human a wendigo is excessive cannibalism, then maybe it's nothing weird like a curse. Maybe there's a naturally-produced hormone in humans that, when consumed excessively, does something to the mental state. This mental trigger is what marks the difference between human and wendigo. Say this hormone is produced more with the body keeping up with the intake, it changes the way the cells in the body are produced. Maybe it changes the composition," I suggested. "Then-"

"Chemicals can't change the foundation of humanity," Serenity scoffed.

I looked to Dean, hoping for help. "She's right, Holls," Dean sighed. "Humanity is what makes us… well, human. A lack of it makes us psychotic. Humanity can't be applied to monsters."

I growled in protest. "What exactly defines humanity?" I challenged. "Huh? Because studies are showing that levels of chemicals like serotonin and dopamine have a deciding factor in brain development, and the differences between the subjects with higher levels are socio- and psychopathology."

I made a noise of intense irritation in the back of my throat. "Look, maybe you guys don't like it, but science is what I've reduced my entire belief system to. I don't believe in genuinely falling in love; I believe in the emotion perceived as love and mental and sexual compatibility. I don't believe in God because I can't prove a religion. If you don't want me to share it, fine, but let me have it so I don't go insane."

"If this is what you need to cope with it, then okay," Sam acknowledged with a nod of his head. "You can have it. We just disagree with it."

"Disagree all you want," I mumbled, taking both of my notebooks and folding them closed defensively before my theories underwent more scrutiny. "Look, the guy Max described, he also said sat right in front of him. I went through the passenger manifest again. George Phelps, twenty-C."

Dean apparently seemed just as willing to let it be as Sam. "Man, I don't care how strong you are," he complained, putting the engine into gear. "Even yoked up on PCP or something, there's no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight!"

"Not if you're human," Sam agreed with the specification. "But maybe this guy George was something else. Some kind of creature, maybe, in human form."

"Shapeshifter?" Serenity suggested helpfully to Sam. "Or do they have human limitations, too?"

And I wasn't even sure I wanted to let myself ponder the science behind shapeshifters, because that would be grossly complicated without any concrete evidence I could base it off on with my own eyes.


End file.
